


Say You Won't Let Go

by Thursday26



Series: Friendship Set to Music [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted!Peter, Identity Porn, M/M, Misunderstandings, Superfamily (Marvel), TW for chapter 15, TW: intense scenes, Tags to be added, emotional angst, superpowered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 77,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25351654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/pseuds/Thursday26
Summary: After Wade accidentally spills the beans to Steve about his steamy night with Peter, how do Peter and Wade move on from that? How does Tony react?Part 3 of the series, set after the events of Manners.
Relationships: Background Steve/Tony - Relationship, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Friendship Set to Music [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469990
Comments: 426
Kudos: 495





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole manners thing spun a little out of control and I accidentally wrote essentially a novel to explore this whole ... thing! I'm really excited about it and plan on doing weekly updates until it's all out! 
> 
> Peter was adopted by Steve and Tony at 4 and he grew up with them. He got his powers at 15, but I left his heroing kind of vague, so it isn't really compliant with any of the movies. At most, I took characterizations from multiple works.
> 
> Speaking of Spidey works, I have only watched Far From Home and I am using Ned and Michelle Jones in this fic. I have tried to research to hopefully keep them IC so please be kind with me. 
> 
> So this is essentially another story that I wanted to see, but couldn't find, so I had to write it myself! Explicit for upcoming chapters. There's some sexy stuff in the middle that I always forget about.
> 
> I think that's everything!
> 
> Oh! Wade gets his boxes! I'm usually pretty good about noting who's speaking by putting them in the dialogue tag, but just for reference:  
>  _{yellow}_  
>  ** _[white]_**
> 
> **Right! I gave Peter 3 last names and never explained it in fic, so I'll explain it now: Idk. It felt right. Enjoy <3**

**_“Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark-Rogers!”_ **

Peter fumbles with the LEGO piece he has in his hand, heart leaping into his throat. He looks to his friend, Ned, who is sitting across from him. They’re sitting at a small table set up in Peter’s room specifically for doing their LEGO creations because Tony doesn’t like tripping over them. Ned is sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide, and it looks like he’s holding his breath. He looks as terrified as Peter feels. Seeing Ned’s panic has Peter’s heart starting to race. Ned leans toward Peter and whispers, “Those are  _ all _ your names.” 

“I know,” Peter hisses, fumbling with more LEGO pieces. He’s not sure why, but he thinks being able to hold onto something without dropping it seems like a good idea right now, even if his fingers are shaking. 

Ned gives him a smile, one of those amused, terrified ones that can only belong on the face of someone out of the line of fire. “You’re in  _ trouble,” _ he sing-songs. 

Peter shoves him, almost playfully. He’s still too scared to be amused entirely, but he can see how it’s a funny situation and Ned is teasing him like a brother would. Or so he assumes, since he’s never had a brother. Peter is always a little surprised at how easily he gets along with Ned, and how at ease he feels around him. They only met last year at the new student orientation at ESU. 

“Shut up,” Peter hisses, wanting to be amused, but all he can feel is panic, his mind running through a million scenarios for why his dad feels the need to use all his names. His first thought is that Tony found out about Spider-Man, the second is the unauthorized use of Tony’s lab (not  _ technically _ unauthorized but some experiments go against the  _ spirit _ of their agreement for Peter using the lab unsupervised), and then he remembers he  _ did _ use Tony’s lab to create a  _ very _ illegal fake ID. Now that he thinks about it, he  _ has _ done a lot of stuff in the last year that would warrant Tony’s worried anger (because Tony is bad with emotions and he defaults to  _ angry _ when he feels scared or overwhelmed). Peter isn’t unfamiliar with that kind of anger, but usually he can hear how scared his dad is behind the raging. This time, all he hears is anger.

“Peter!” Tony yells again, echoed by loud footsteps, which is impressive. The walls don’t let that much noise through, even with Peter’s enhanced hearing. Is Tony stomping? Why is he stomping? Tony is not quiet by any means, but he  _ never _ stomps. 

“Tony, calm down,” Peter can hear his pops saying, his voice getting closer. 

“Don’t grab me, Steve,” Tony growls, voice still getting closer. “Peter!” 

Ned grabs Peter’s arm and shakes him. “What did you  _ do?” _

“I don’t  _ know,”  _ Peter whispers, eyes wide, and his stomach still turning. Tony definitely found out about Spider-Man. He’s going to be grounded until he’s thirty. He’ll lose his shooters, lose Spider-Man… he’ll never see Wade again. 

_ “Peter!” _ Tony roars, bursting into Peter’s bedroom, cutting off Peter’s thoughts about not seeing Wade again. What’s that about anyway? Tony opens the door hard enough that it bounces off the wall behind it with a loud bang. Even though Peter was expecting his dad, he jumps at Tony’s entrance; so does Ned. 

Tony is panting, red-faced and dressed like he’s come straight from the lab, dirty tank top and all, Steve following close behind. Steve is supposed to be training right now, dressed in his Captain America uniform. Tony, Peter’s sure, has a deadline for something or other and he should be working on it now, not confronting Peter. 

“Dad!” Peter says reflexively, not sure what else he can say. Tony’s eyes lock on him and Peter feels like a bug pinned to a board. There’s something wild in Tony’s eyes. 

Steve steps around Tony, putting himself between them and keeping his back to Peter, his hands up. “Tony, you have to  _ calm down,” _ he orders, sounding like they’re out in the field. 

Peter would wince if he wasn’t still under his dad’s stare. Tony does  _ not _ like being told what to do, especially when his pops decides to use his ‘Captain’ voice on him. 

Steve’s words don’t seem to register with Tony, his eyes still locked on Peter. He’s looking around Steve like he’s an inconvenient pylon or something. He points a sharp finger at Peter.  _ “ _ **_You!_ ** _ ” _

“Me?” Peter asks dumbly, pointing to himself incredulously. 

_ “You!” _ he repeats, jabbing his finger at Peter. “What on  _ Earth _ were you thinking?!” 

Peter holds up his hands. Dumb. He’s going to play dumb. He’s not going to admit to anything. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” It has to be Spider-Man, there’s nothing else that would get Tony so worked up. He won’t admit to anything though, not until it’s too late. But… Peter is hyper-aware of Ned sitting right beside him. Tony wouldn’t out him in front of a civilian, right? No matter how upset he is. 

Ned is sitting very still, watching with eager eyes, absorbing every word. God, he loves gossip. “You know  _ damn well _ what you did, Peter!” Tony yells, voice cracking at the end. Now there’s some of that fear he’s expecting. What did Peter do to scare Tony so bad? 

Steve knocks down Tony’s arm, snapping Tony’s attention to him. “You have to calm down!” Steve yells. Tony inhales sharply through his nose, a clear non-verbal show of his disapproval. “Peter didn’t do anything  _ wrong!” _

That does not appear to appease Tony in any way. “Nothing wrong?!” he repeats incredulously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he’s getting ready to fight. Peter can recognize the starting position his dad uses when he spars in the gym. “Our  _ son–” _ he takes a breath and it’s almost a pause, but it’s more like he’s gathering the strength for his next words– “ _ FUCKED _ Deadpool!” 

Peter inhales sharply, muscles tensing. “You fucked Deadpool?!” Ned whispers excitedly, now right at Peter’s side and leaning in to whisper in his ear. Peter’s mouth opens and closes, unable to find words. 

“Peter didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve repeats firmly, cutting off Tony’s sightline to look directly in his eyes. It doesn’t feel better now that his dad isn’t looking at him anymore, the words echoing inside Peter’s head. How do they know?

Tony scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying what Peter did was  _ okay?” _

“I don’t think it was a good  _ choice _ ,” Steve says, unmoving, “but it wasn’t a bad  _ thing _ he did.” 

Peter feels like he might cry. Why are his dads so upset? How did they find out?  _ Peter _ didn’t say anything. Someone else must’ve, and the only other person who knew… “How did you find out?” he chokes out. His dads stop yelling at each other and look at him. Steve looks sad and like he pities Peter, while Tony looks vindicated. 

“How did we find out?” Tony repeats, chest puffing out and taking a confident step forward. “I’ll tell you how we found out–” 

“Tony, please–” Steve says, trying to stop Tony from getting closer. He grabs onto Tony’s arm, but Tony shakes him off. 

Tony acts like Steve didn’t make a sound. “Oh, I’ll fucking tell you, alright!” 

“Tony, please!” Steve tries again, a little more desperate.

“We found out from Deadpool himself!” Tony yells, sounding excited, but his face is grim, like he’s picturing something gross. Peter stares at him in disbelief. “That’s right!” Tony continues, vindicated. “That  _ fucker _ broke into the Tower and regaled your pops with what happened last night!” 

Peter’s heart twists in his chest and his face starts on fire. “He did?” he asks, feeling small and unable to look his dad in the eye. He’s not looking higher than Tony’s chin. How much did Wade tell them? How many  _ details _ do his dads know? 

The whole time Peter has known Wade, he’s never heard the merc brag about his sexual exploits. Well… he has, but never about a partner he bedded. It’s all limited to him bragging about what  _ he’s _ capable of doing and retelling of the times he was able to perform exceptionally well (which is all the time, apparently). From Peter’s memory, the only time Wade has bragged about a partner, he’s never given enough specific information to identify them. How could his dads know that it’s Peter that Wade was talking about? And why did Wade tell his pops? 

Peter knows that he’s not unknown in the public sphere, but Tony has worked hard to keep Peter from being too much in the public eye. Peter does the rest by staying out of trouble, leaving the gossip rags with nothing interesting to report on him. Despite all the precautions, Peter is still somewhat of a public figure, a mini-celebrity because of his parents. He inhales sharply. Are the tabloids going to be plastered with Peter’s first sexual experience? Did Wade seek Steve out for hush money? 

“Yes, he did!” Tony yells, forcing Peter out of his head. “And  _ now _ he’s probably out there, telling the highest bidder every sordid detail, making sure to besmirch your good name!” 

Peter can’t breathe. He can remember long conversations with his dads about what it meant to be in the public eye. He remembers vividly Tony’s warning about how one slip can paint him negatively for  _ years _ because people like to see someone fall more than to rise up. Then there’s the whole same-sex thing, which people are  _ still _ weird about, despite how stupid it is to be homophobic. “–because only crazy people give that  _ psycho _ the time of day!” Tony finishes strongly, his voice the only thing louder than the blood in Peter’s ears. Peter missed most of that tirade, but the ending rang clear. It feels like someone’s stabbed him in the heart. 

“Tony!” Steve scolds. Tony flinches at Steve’s tone, which seems to be the only thing capable of getting Tony out of his ranting mode. He looks at Steve first, but Steve steps in front of Tony, cutting Peter’s sightline off. The only thing he can see is the set of his shoulders: Steve looks ready to give a righteous lecture. Tony takes a step back, eyes still on his husband, his chin stubbornly raised. “This is why I wanted to talk to you  _ before _ we talked with Peter,” Steve growls, “so you wouldn’t say something you’d regret.” 

“You can’t sugarcoat this,” Tony snaps. “Do you understand what sort of  _ nightmare _ this is going to be? We’re going to have to write  _ statements _ and get ahead of this  _ mess _ . I’m going to have to call  _ Pepper–”  _ He’s holding up his hands, counting out on his fingers everything they have to do.

“Tony!” Steve interrupts, grabbing Tony’s shoulders and shaking him. “Focus on what’s more important right now!” Tony blinks at him, visibly confused. Steve continues, but at a more level volume. “I know that this  _ could _ be a media circus, but we can worry about that  _ later.” _ Tony opens his mouth, but Steve cuts him off, shaking him again. “Peter’s privacy has been violated by someone he thought he could trust.” Tony stares at him. “I  _ don’t care _ what  _ anyone else  _ has to say about this right now, or  _ whatever  _ we have to do to combat this publicly, because my focus is on making sure  _ Peter _ is okay.” 

Tony blinks at Steve again, then his eyes dart to Peter. Peter breaks when he makes eye contact with his dad, a sob breaking out of his chest and he buries his face in his hands, the weight of the disappointment of his dad and the guilt of putting both of them in this situation finally breaking the dam. Not to mention the embarrassment at having his private affairs being known by other people. Tony must hate him now. Peter has caused so much trouble. He didn’t mean to. Why does he have to be so  _ selfish? _

“Shit,” he hears someone say then he’s enveloped in a warm hug. It’s his dad, Peter can tell by the smell of motor oil and something distinctly metallic. Despite everything, Peter buries his nose in Tony’s neck, crying hard. He can hear Steve asking Ned to give them some privacy, with Ned’s quick agreement following. Ned can’t say no to Captain America. 

Peter sobs into his dad’s neck while Ned leaves the room. Peter can hear the door close behind Ned and his dad starts whispering, “I’m so sorry, Peter.” He runs his fingers through Peter's hair and holds him close. Peter clings to him. He doesn’t want to disappoint his dad. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. 

He can feel Steve’s hand on his shoulder then a warm arm wrapped around him and Tony. “It’s okay, Peter,” Steve says. “It’ll be okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbles, shaking a bit. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t–” 

“Shhh…” Steve hushes, “you didn’t do anything wrong, Peter. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“But I–” Peter gasps, “I’m causing so much trouble–” 

“Shhh,” Tony says, still brushing his fingers through his hair. “Your pops is right. You don’t have to apologize.” He squeezes Peter. “I overreacted. That’s my fault. I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry.” 

Peter sobs. He knew that Tony wouldn’t be happy with the whole Wade thing, but he never thought Tony would know before Peter could tell him. How could Wade do this to him? “We don’t have to talk about this, though,” Steve says. 

“I don’t want to,” Peter whimpers. He  _ really _ doesn’t. He doesn’t think anyone wants to talk about their sex life with their parents. It’s already horrifying that his dads know he slept with Wade, but Peter has no idea how much detail Wade went into, which is just stressing Peter out more. They did  _ a lot _ last night, and Peter  _ never _ wanted his dads to know. He freezes. Did Wade tell Steve that Peter was a virgin?

“Peter,” Steve says gently and Peter turns his head so he can see his pops. Steve is leaning over a little awkwardly since Peter is still sitting in his chair. He’s still leaning into Tony’s chest, though. Steve is giving him a sympathetic look. “We don’t need specifics. We’re just worried about you.” 

Peter frowns. He was perfectly fine until Tony started yelling at him. 

Tony pulls back and Peter looks at him. Tony looks right in Peter’s eyes. “Why would you sleep with  _ Deadpool?” _ Peter blinks at him. Is that what Tony  _ really _ wants to ask him about? 

Steve clears his throat, drawing Peter’s attention. “What your dad  _ means,” _ he says pointedly, glaring at Tony over Peter’s head, “is that Deadpool has a very… complicated reputation. And he’s a lot older than you are, Peter. We’re worried that he did something to you or that you were coerced or something.” 

Peter is shaking his head before Steve is done speaking. “No, he wouldn’t–” 

“How do you know, Peter?” Tony cuts in, standing up, leaving Peter feeling a little cold. When Peter looks back at his dad, Tony is looking down at him. “Where did you even run into him? It’s not like you move in the same circles.” 

Peter looks away quickly.  _ If you only knew… _ he thinks to himself. He has to tell them half the truth. Tony isn’t going to be happy; impressed, maybe (he’s always had a soft spot for rebellion), and Steve will be disappointed. Peter rubs the back of his neck, well aware of the fact that both his dads are standing over him. “I… I followed him into a club,” he admits. 

There’s a brief moment of silence. Peter won’t look up to see how his dads feel about that admission. “And how did you manage that?” Steve asks evenly, his pre-lecture voice already engaged. Peter is pretty familiar with that voice, having gotten into trouble over the years, sometimes alongside Tony or one of his uncles. He and Natasha have never been caught, but he’s certain Steve has suspected them sometimes. 

Now, Peter has to make choices about what he does and doesn’t lie about, and he should lie about how he got into the club. He’s definitely going to get in trouble, but one less secret will make it easier to track what they know. There’s also a lot of guilt with every secret he keeps from his parents. Coming clean with one thing he’s hiding will help ease that load. 

He sighs and stands, going over to his desk and pulling his fake ID out of his desk drawer. He hands it to Tony without a word and takes a step back, folding his arms over his chest and looking at the floor. He doesn’t want to sit down again. He doesn’t want his dads to look down at him. Tony isn’t much taller than him standing, but Steve is, but it’s different when he’s on his feet. 

“Parker Peterson?” Steve asks. Peter looks up and sees Tony staring at the ID with a raised eyebrow, Steve looking at it over Tony’s shoulder. He has a confused expression on his face. Tony’s expression is hard to explain.Then Steve looks at Peter. “Who’s that?” 

Peter blushes. Tony snorts. “It’s Peter, Steve,” Tony says, waving a hand towards Peter. Then he gives Peter a look that is half strained, half I’m-definitely-not-impressed-nope-no-way. “You couldn’t come up with something more creative? Seymour Butts? I.P. Freely? Ben Dover?” Peter has to hold back the amused snort that threatens to come up. Of  _ course _ the first issue Tony would have would be with the name choice. And poor Steve looks more confused. “And where did you even get this? I’ll cut off your allowance if you’re using it to buy stuff like this.” 

Peter looks down, tightening his arms around himself. “I made it myself…” 

“How?” Steve asks. 

Peter shrugs. “JARVIS helped me.” 

Tony looks scandalized. “JARVIS!” he yells, betrayed. “You knew about this?” He waves the fake ID in the direction of one of JARVIS’ cameras. 

_ “Young Sir informed me it was for an assignment for school about fraudulent identities,”  _ JARVIS responds primly. 

Tony scoffs.” I thought I programmed you better than that.” He tosses the ID onto the table with a growl. Peter is very still. Tony  _ did _ program JARVIS better than that. Did JARVIS… cover for him? Peter is too afraid to ask and is more than willing to leave this horse’s mouth alone. 

“That’s not the point, Tony,” Steve says tiredly. Peter doesn’t blame him: there’s other things to be worrying about. 

“Yes, you’re right,” Tony agrees. “Parker Peterson, what’s up with that?” 

“The  _ point,” _ Steve cuts him, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “is why Peter would even want to make this in the first place.” He looks to Peter and waits for him to give him an answer. 

Peter shrugs, feeling exposed. “I wanted to… to talk to Wa-Deadpool.” 

Steve frowns at him. Probably over the minor slip-up. It wouldn’t be  _ weird _ , exactly, for Peter to know Wade’s name, but he shouldn’t be comfortable enough to use it. Tony doesn’t seem to have noticed the slip-up, though. “Why the hell would you want to do that?” Tony asks loudly, nose wrinkled. 

Peter shrugs again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw him hanging around Spider-Man a few times… I didn’t think he could be  _ that _ bad if Spider-Man likes him.” He pauses, the silence uncomfortable. He’s trying to plow past how weird it is to talk about his alter-ego like he doesn’t know exactly who it is. “And… I kind of liked the way he looked.” Admitting that feels a little wrong. Well, not  _ wrong _ but incorrect to do in this situation, like it always feels to admit that you may have a crush on someone in front of your parents. It’s also an incomplete admission: Peter likes Wade for a lot more than his appearance, but he’d never be able to explain that to his dads. 

Tony’s nose scrunches up like he’s four and someone told him to eat his broccoli. “The uniform hides a lot, Peter. He’s not that–” 

“I’m aware the uniform hides a lot,” Peter cuts him off, not wanting his dad to finish that thought, but also keeping eye contact with Tony. Wade is  _ not ugly _ . He will not stand for even his dad saying bad things about Wade. 

Tony gags. Luckily, Steve jumps in. “It’s okay, Peter. You don’t have to…” Steve blushes, then clears his throat. “Why did it have to be Deadpool? He may have a… strong physique–”  _ understatement _ , Peter thinks to himself– “but he isn’t the best guy to get involved with. Your dad and I aren’t just worried about bad press, but that Deadpool knows who you  _ are _ , Peter. He’s  _ unstable _ . We have no idea what he’s capable of doing because  _ no one  _ can guess what he’s going to do next, not even Spider-Man.” 

Peter’s arms tighten around himself, jaw clenching. “He works for SHIELD sometimes,” he points out defensively. He doesn’t want to get into his parents’ distrust of Spider-Man,  _ that _ is a separate issue altogether. He can only get defensive on Spider-Man’s behalf so many times before they start to suspect him of something.

“And you think SHIELD is some paragon of goodness?” Tony snarks. Steve sighs loudly. 

Peter frowns. “I’ve always been told that they’re the good guys,” he responds evenly. Then he blinks a couple of times.  _ “You two _ work with SHIELD.” 

“Yeah,  _ with _ them, not  _ for  _ them,” Tony shoots back. 

“What’s the difference?” Peter snaps. 

“We have a liaison!” Tony shouts. “Not a handler!” 

Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s not what Uncle Phil says.” 

_ “Agent _ is a dirty liar!” Tony shoots back

“Tony,” Steve cuts in again, “we’re getting off-topic. This isn’t about SHIELD, this is about Deadpool knowing who Peter is and figuring out why Peter sought out Deadpool in the first place.” 

“Right,” Tony nods, then looks at Peter. Peter glares at him. “If you wanted a mask, why not go for someone better?” 

Better?! Wade is Peter’s best friend! Who’s ‘better’ than that?! “Like who?” Peter asks incredulously, honestly drawing a blank on who could be better. 

“I don’t know,” Tony throws up his hands and looks at Steve. Then he perks up. “What about Johnny Storm? He’s a nice guy!” 

Peter wrinkles his nose. “And he looks exactly like Pops.” 

Steve blushes. “He doesn’t,” Tony says dismissively. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” It’s not like Tony will ever concede that he’s wrong about anything. Peter shakes his head. “You’d rather have me get closer to the Fantastic Four?” he asks. “The team that includes  _ Reed Richards, _ in case you’ve forgotten, instead of getting close to Deadpool?” 

“Yes!” Tony yells emphatically. “In fact, I’d rather you  _ fuck _ Richards instead of Deadpool!” 

Peter grimaces and Steve winces. “Do we have to be so crude?” Steve asks, pained. 

“Why Deadpool?” Tony blurts out. “Of all people?” 

Peter’s shoulders come up by his ears and he paces away from his dads. “I don’t know! I like him! He’s…” He pauses, stopping his pacing, too. He’s not sure if he should say anything more specific. He looks over and his dads are staring at him, waiting for him to talk. How much can Peter say without giving too much away? “He’s sweet,” Peter finishes, deciding that’s the safest thing to say. Steve and Tony might not believe him, but Peter knows that it’s true. 

“Oh, Peter,” Steve says softly, a look on his face that tells Peter Steve doesn’t believe him and that he feels sorry that Peter is so naive. Peter bristles. He didn’t approach Wade blind.

Peter’s reaction to Steve is nothing compared to how he feels about Tony’s much more volatile reaction. “You can’t trust Deadpool!” Tony shouts. “He’s definitely tricked you! He’s morally corrupt and he has  _ no problem _ lying to you to get what he wants!” 

Although Peter didn’t like Steve’s reaction–he felt like a kid being told the tooth fairy wasn’t real, gently and with care–but Tony’s reaction has Peter outright  _ offended _ . Wade, while definitely not the most morally upright person (but who truly is?), isn’t some snake in the grass, waiting to damn Peter to Hell. He isn’t Loki. Wade is the embodiment of ‘what you see is what you get.’ For the most part. There’s some baggage there that Wade keeps close to his chest, but,  _ again _ , who doesn’t? “He wouldn’t lie to me,” Peter asserts, not really caring if he’s showing his hand a bit. He  _ knows _ Wade wouldn’t lie to him, he’s Peter’s best friend. 

Tony turns to Steve. “Are you gonna tell him?” 

“Tell me what?” Peter snaps. 

“Tony, please,” Steve pleads.

“Tell you,” Tony says with an air of superiority, eyes locked with Steve’s, “what a vulgar piece of  _ shit _ Deadpool is. To  _ tell you _ all the disgusting locker room  _ bullshit _ he said when he bragged about how he fucked you last night.” 

“Tony,” Steve sighs. Tony’s words are a stab through the heart, but Peter is not as upset as he was before. Peter knew the risks of jumping into a one-night stand with Wade: it’s the same as sleeping with anyone and having no strings attached. Sure, it hurts to think that Peter is another notch in Wade’s bedpost, but he was only with Peter for one night. They owe each other nothing. What’s hurting Peter now is how… hostile Tony is towards him and how he keeps on treating Peter like he’s a stupid kid. He may be young, but he’s an adult.

“So?” Peter asks, arms crossed defensively. Sure, it hurts. Peter thought Wade wouldn’t say anything, and that sucks, but they don’t owe each other anything.

Steve and Tony’s attention snaps to him and Peter makes a point of glaring defiantly at them. They’re both looking at him wide-eyed. “So?” Tony repeats in disbelief. 

Peter wishes he could continue to stare his dads in the eye, but he looks down, taking a couple of shuffling steps back from them, losing his nerve. He hates how young they make him feel sometimes. He shrugs. “It was just a one-night stand…” 

“A one-night stand?!” Tony echoes loudly, incredulous. 

“Yeah,” Peter says flatly, gaze down, but his jaw tense. “You fuck ‘em once and leave ‘em. You’re familiar with those,  _ Tony.” _

“Peter!” Steve says, appalled. Peter flinches, sparing a glance at his dads. He takes a little pride in the hurt he sees on Tony’s face, but that feeling is quickly replaced by guilt. Tony’s past is firmly behind him, Peter knows that he’s a different man now, but Tony still thinks the worst of himself. Even if it felt good to get a jab in, to knock his dad down a few pegs off his high horse.

“Sure,” Peter says, making a choice to ignore Steve and plow on past the guilt in his gut, “it hurts to know that Wa-Deadpool is talking about me like that to whoever, but really… it was just one night. We don’t owe each other anything.” 

“So why are you so upset if it’s not that big of a deal?” Tony snipes.

Peter feels a surprising amount of anger bubble up inside him, the emotion quickly smothering the guilt he was feeling. He looks Tony straight in the eye and feels like he could spit fire. “Because my  _ dad _ bursts into my room, yelling about me sleeping with someone in front of my friends AND yelling at me like I joined HYDRA when all I did was sleep with someone you don’t like!” Peter yells, gesturing pointedly towards his dad.

Tony winces. “Peter, I–” 

“No!” Peter cuts him off, energy surging through him. He’s surprised at how upset he is. “That’s  _ so embarrassing _ , Dad! If it was  _ anyone else _ but Deadpool, you would’ve talked to me privately! I  _ know _ you hate Deadpool! Why do you think I didn’t fucking tell you?!” He takes a deep breath. Tony and Steve look speechless. “Because I knew you’d react  _ exactly _ like this!” Yeah, now that he’s thought about it, he shouldn’t feel so betrayed by Wade. Who cares if he tells everyone and their cat? He and Wade aren’t exclusive. It was  _ one night _ . They have no obligation to one another. The people he’s most betrayed by in this moment are his  _ parents _ . They’re the ones who are embarrassing him and making him feel like shit for what he did. 

“Why  _ Deadpool?” _ Tony repeats, starting to sound like a child.

“Tony,” Steve says, putting a hand on Tony’s arm, but he shakes it off. 

“No, I want to know why Peter would want to be with Deadpool!” Tony yells, starting to sound hysterical. “It doesn’t make sense!” 

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Peter growls, glaring at Tony. 

Tony takes a step towards him. He’s also glaring. “Why Deadpool?! Why? I don’t get it!” 

Annoyance is brewing in Peter’s chest. He wouldn’t have to explain himself for anyone else. “Let it go,” he warns, voice low. 

“No!” Tony cries. “All I can think is that he’s tricked you into something!” 

“Tony,” Steve tries, starting to look visibly annoyed by him as well. 

Tony glares and bares his teeth at Steve. “Don’t you dare pretend you’re better than me, Steve,” he says through his teeth. 

Peter has had enough of them. Neither of them will believe him if he tells them that he wanted to be with Wade because Wade makes him laugh, or that he genuinely likes to spend time with the merc, that Peter’s day can suck but the moment he sees Wade, everything gets better, or anything nice like that. So he decides he has to be crude, just to get his parents off his back. “Because he’s built like no one else and he can hold me up easily when horizontal gets boring and he has a  _ textured penis!” _ Peter snaps. 

Steve visibly pales while Tony turns a little green. “Is that what you wanted to hear,  _ Dad?” _ he continues, voice dripping with venom. “Do you want to hear that I wanted to jump Deadpool because I think he’s really fucking hot?!” 

Tony covers his mouth and mutters, “I didn’t need to know that.” Peter swears that Tony goes a deeper shade of green, not that Peter cares.

“But you did!” Peter yells, at the end of his rope. “You kept on asking ‘why Deadpool? Why did you choose that ugly, maskèd man!’” he mocks, voice pitching higher. “Do you want to know more? You wanna hear how much  _ fun  _ I had? Should I corroborate what he told Pops? Would that satiate your curiosity? Give me the details and I’ll fucking tell you!” 

There’s a moment of silence that falls after Peter’s tirade, punctuated by Peter’s breathing and the muffled sounds of Ned laughing on the other side of the door. Of course that snoop has his ear pressed against the door. Peter feels himself starting to blush. Ned is  _ never _ going to let him live this down. 

“No, thank you,” Steve says magnanimously, recovering first. Tony gags loudly. Steve looks at Tony, a gentle look on his face. “Maybe you should let me handle this while you compose yourself?” 

“Yes, you handle this. I’m going to bleach my brain,” Tony says and exits quickly. He almost knocks Ned over in his hasty retreat. Ned blushes and apologizes to “Mr. Stark’” but Tony doesn’t seem to notice him, stomping down the hallway at a quick clip. He leaves the door open behind him and Ned stands awkwardly in the frame.

He chuckles nervously and waves at Peter and Steve. “Uhh… interesting… interesting conversation,” he says lamely. Peter resists the desire he feels to bury his face in his hands and pray for the floor to open and swallow him whole. 

Steve crosses the room and starts to close to the door, but not before addressing Ned. “Just a few more minutes, Ned. Sorry.” He does sound genuinely apologetic, over his husband’s rude behavior or keeping Ned out in the hall like a pet, Peter can’t be sure. 

Ned nods quickly. “Of course, Captain America.” 

Peter has to smother the urge to laugh. It’s been a year and Ned is still starstruck around his parents. Steve chuckles and says, for probably the hundredth time, “Just call me Steve, Ned.” 

Peter can see Ned light up like a kid seeing Santa Claus for the first time. “Okay, Steve!” 

Peter rolls his eyes fondly as his pops shuts the door. Steve sighs and leans against the shut door for a moment. “Don’t be so hard on your dad,” he says before turning around, shoulders slumped. “He’s just worried about you.” 

Peter scoffs. “He wants to control me. He’s always pushing his nose into my business and being overprotective.” He pouts and kicks at the floor. “I’m not a kid anymore.” 

Steve sighs again and Peter looks up. He’s standing in front of Peter and he puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders. Peter reluctantly looks at his pops. There’s a soft look on his face and Peter feels his righteous anger cooling. “You’re always going to be our kid, Peter,” he says softly. Peter opens his mouth, but Steve holds up a hand. Peter stays quiet. “I know you’re nineteen and well on your way to adulthood and everything that means, but to me and your dad… when we look at you, we still see that four-year-old that was too scared to sleep alone for those first few weeks he was here, but was also too scared to ask for company.” Peter’s throat closes and he looks away. “I’m not saying that I agree with how your dad reacted, but I can’t say that I don’t understand why he reacted that way.” 

“Why is he treating me like a bad guy then?” Peter asks, feeling small. 

“He’s scared,” Steve states calmly. Peter gives him an incredulous look. Like, Peter knows that Tony doesn’t do well when he’s scared, he’s seen it, but this just feels like him trying to control Peter and judging him. Steve smiles and nods. “It’s true,” he insists. “Your dad is absolutely terrified that something bad happened to you because, to him, to us, Deadpool is  _ dangerous.” _

“But he’s not,” Peter argues lamely. 

“And I believe that.” Peter blinks at his pops and Steve backtracks. “I believe that  _ you _ believe Deadpool isn’t dangerous, but I’m not sure.” He pauses, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Deadpool is more than whatever you’ve seen on TV, or what you’ve gathered from your dad’s files.” Peter’s eyes go wide. “Yes, don’t think for a second we don’t know you’ve been able to get into Tony’s files on the villains and heroes of New York.” Peter winces. He was sure he didn’t leave a trace. “But, no matter what you’ve seen or heard about Deadpool, there is more going on there.” 

“I know he’s more than what everyone says he is,” Peter mumbles, but he’s sure he and Steve aren’t talking about the same thing. 

“What I mean to say is that we’ve seen Deadpool in the field, we’ve seen him go completely unhinged and it scares us both,” Steve says. “For now, he seems to be on the good side, probably because of Spider-Man’s influence, but he’s unpredictable at best because of his healing factor. Especially after a head trauma.” Peter doesn’t entirely believe that, since he’s been around Deadpool many times, pre- and post-regeneration. Some things might be unbalanced at first, but Wade always seems to even out into the Wade Wilson Peter knows and lo… cares for. 

Peter wants to tell Steve everything, to help him understand why Peter believes what he believes. Maybe he could convince Steve that he isn’t some dumb kid getting swept up by some older man. He doesn’t do it though, he can’t, not without revealing himself. “Can’t you guys just trust me and my judgement?” Peter asks. 

Steve looks pained. “I don’t know if we can this time, Peter. Me and your dad love you so much and we never want to see you get hurt, As much as we trust you, we don’t trust Deadpool. Neither of us want him to get close enough to hurt you. Deadpool is just too… unpredictable.” 

Peter really wants to argue. He doesn’t want his dads thinking so poorly of Wade, but he can’t say anything. He can’t give everything away. And with what he can tell them, they’ll just go in circles all night. “So what happens now?” Peter asks, sighing in defeat. 

“Well, I’m sure your dad would think I’m being too lenient, but you’re grounded,” Steve states. 

“Grounded?!” Peter gapes. “I’m nineteen! And… I thought you said I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Sleeping with Deadpool wasn’t wrong, but this,” picking up Peter’s fake ID off the table, “is a little illegal, I’m pretty sure.” He flips it over in his hand, looking at it with a frown. “And I’m pretty certain that you used your dad’s tech to make sure it wouldn’t be flagged as a fake.” 

Peter scrunches up his face, but doesn’t argue. Pops is right… making fake IDs is a little illegal. He’s never felt the need to go out and party, so he’s not too choked up about losing it. It’s not like his friends run in that circle either. Hell, him and Ned are spending their Saturday evening inside, building a LEGO model. They’re not exactly party animals. “For how long?” Peter asks, resigned. 

“Let’s say you’re grounded for now, but I’ll come back with a more solid timeline after I talk with your dad, okay?” 

“Sounds fair,” Peter mumbles. And it is, really, but Peter doesn’t have to like that he’s going to be grounded. 

“Ned can stay for a bit, but once we decide your punishment for this–” he holds it up again– “he’ll have to go home.” 

Peter sighs and nods. ‘Okay.”

Steve gives him a strong, one-armed hug and kisses his temple. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Pops,” Peter responds, almost reluctant. Not because he doesn’t love Steve, but because he feels resentful about being called out in front of his friend. Oh God, Ned is still outside his bedroom, no doubt absorbing every word he can. Steve nods and leaves.

Ned almost stumbles into Steve when he opens the door. Ned offers a stuttered apology and Steve smiles, shaking Ned’s hand, and disappears down the hall. Peter sighs when Steve is out of sight, but he doesn’t relax. Ned rounds on him, watching Steve leave as well and only turning when he’s gone, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “You slept with  _ Deadpool?!” _ he screeches. 

Peter nods and rolls his eyes, ignoring the blush on his face. “Yes, I slept with Deadpool,” he confirms, moving to sit back at the table with their project on it. “I know you had your ear pressed to the door, so I’m not repeating it anymore.” 

“Come on, Peter!” Ned begs, sitting at the table as well, but moving his chair so he’s sitting next to Peter. “It was mumbly half the time! You  _ have _ to fill me in!”

Peter shakes his head. “No, not going to happen.” He picks up a couple of pieces, like he’s busy, but he’s not really trying. “We only have a bit before you’re going to have to leave.” He can feel Ned’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head. “I’m grounded.” 

Ned makes a confused noise. “For… sleeping with Deadpool? I mean… is it because he’s a guy? Or… no… you have two dads…” 

Peter picks up two more blocks and notes the amount of work they have left. They just started this project and it looks like it won’t be finished for a while. “No, I don’t think they care I slept with a guy, they care  _ who _ that guy was, but I’m not grounded for that.” Peter shrugs. “I’m grounded for making a fake ID.” 

Ned is quiet. For too long. Peter looks over and Ned is staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s seeing Peter for the first time. “It’s like I don’t even know you,” he says in awe. 

“It was a one time thing!” Peter argues, cheeks pink. “I only wanted to see what it was like and that’s it. I don’t even care that I don’t have the ID anymore.” Ned stays quiet, giving Peter a slick smile. He’s too quiet. Sure, they aren’t  _ loud _ as a pair, but they’re rarely quiet. “What?” Peter snaps, hoping Ned says something else before Peter feels compelled to fill the silence himself.

“What did you wanna try so you’d ‘know what it was like’?” Ned asks with a leer.

Peter blushes, trying to glare. “Shut up!” 

“No, Peter, I’m confused,” Ned says casually, calmly. Peter manages to fully glare but Ned isn’t fazed. “Was it the sweet rebellion of sneaking into a club, after breaking some federal laws, I might add, or was it the  _ sweet rebellion _ of sleeping with a boy your parents don’t like?”

“Oh my God, Ned! Shut up!” Peter is mortified. Is it bad that he wishes Tony was here instead? At least Tony would be kind enough to pretend that this didn’t happen. “Wade is hardly a boy,” he mumbles, sticking two pieces together then pulling them apart. “Shut up,” he repeats, “it was just one time, anyway.” 

Ned goes quiet again and Peter didn’t expect his pleas to shut up to actually work. He looks at his friend and Ned has a thoughtful look on his face. Peter isn’t sure if he likes that better than Ned teasing him. “What?!” he snaps, making Ned flinch. 

Peter feels guilty. Ned doesn’t deserve to be spoken to so harshly, but he’s finding it hard to apologize. Although when he opens his mouth to do so, Ned speaks first. “I don’t know, Peter.,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You don’t know what?”

Ned shrugs. “That this was a one-time thing.” 

“It was,” Peter insists.

“Hey,” he says, holding his hands up, “all jokes aside, it seems like you went through a lot of trouble for this guy in the first place.” Peter blinks at him. “It seems like too much to do for something that’s just a ‘one-time’ deal.” 

“It  _ was _ a one-time thing,” Peter says firmly. 

“Hey, it’s cool,” Ned says, moving his chair away from Peter, giving him space. Peter appreciates that. “I’m just saying.” 

“Well… stop saying it.” He fiddles with some more pieces. “We should try to get as much of this done as we can before you have to leave. I doubt I’ll see you for a while.” 

“You know I want to hear about this, if you need to talk about it,” Ned tells him sincerely. Peter’s heart warms at the offer. “I mean it’s not every day that your best friend sneaks into a club and has sex with a masked… what would he be? Not a hero…” 

Peter sighs. “He’s a mercenary.” 

“A fucking  _ mercenary!” _ Ned repeats excitedly, taking a deep breath. “When did you get so cool?” He’s looking at Peter with stars in his eyes.

Peter bursts out laughing, the weight in his chest leaving. “I’m not cool.” 

Ned shakes his head. “Cooler than me, that’s for sure.” He points to something by Peter’s elbow. “Pass that to me?” Peter does, grateful for the segue. 

They work in silence and Peter starts to relax with each moment they don’t talk about Wade. Peter should’ve known better than to think Ned was done. “Did you like it?” Ned asks, keeping his eyes on his hands. 

The blush on Peter’s face burns, but he nods, finding it easier to answer without Ned looking at him. “Yeah… I did.” He puts two pieces together that don’t go together, pulling them apart again. “Are we done talking about it?” 

“Sure,” Ned nods, smirking, “until I tell MJ.” 

Peter groans, letting his head fall onto the table with a  _ thunk _ . He’ll  _ never  _ hear the end of this. 

* * *

“Weasel!” Wade yells, bursting into Sister Margaret’s, half limping. Captain America ended up tossing him down the stairs instead of a window like Wade feared. He’s recently learned the term ‘defenestration’ and wonders why English is so weird. Also, Avengers Tower has some big fucking windows that would be fun to smash. But no, instead of the elegance of shattered glass, Wade got the pretty sound of shattering bones as he tumbled down a dark stairwell. Hardly artistic. He doesn’t think he fell many stories, but the Tower has  _ too many _ stairs. He had to throw himself down the rest of them to get out of the building, and if he left some blood as a souvenir for Stark? Not his problem. Stark has robots for that anyway. Or people. Maybe robot people. Doesn’t matter, not Wade’s issue. 

So Wade left something for Stark, but he did take something from the Tower: a lesson. Oh boy, did Steve give him a lesson. He’s sure as shit never going to do  _ that _ again.  _ {You’d do it again if you had the chance, don’t be a dirty, rotten liar,} _ Yellow says.

“Wade! You’re bleeding all over my floor!” Weasel yells back. “Get out!” The bar is mostly empty. It’s still early, but a couple of ol’ faithfuls are in the corners. For the most part, the ol’ faithfuls are just the scumbags that want to drink and aren't part of the life. That being said, they’re so used to the weird in Weasel’s bar that they don’t look up from their drinks when Wade limps in.

“I fucked up, Weas!” Wade hollers, ignoring Weasel’s order and limping straight to the bar, sitting at one of the stools with a heavy sigh. His leg is healed, for the most part, but it’s still tender. It’ll heal faster when he stops putting weight on it. 

“Then I really don’t want you in my bar,’ Weasel shoots back, pushing his dirty glasses up his nose. “And you’re really bleeding all over the place,” he says with a frown. “I don’t want your blood here.” 

“It’ll heal if you give it a few more minutes,” Wade waves him off, flicking blood onto the bar. Weasel frowns at it. “Besides, blood comes with the decor.” 

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t want  _ your _ nasty blood all over the place,” Weasel states, poking Wade in the chest for good measure. Wade barely feels the poke; Weasel is a bit of a weakling. 

“Ouch, that hurts my feelings,” Wade pouts. “And since when did you become a blood snob, you fucking vampire?” Wade taps the bartop twice. 

Weasel sighs, grabbing a shot glass and pouring some amber liquid into it. “I’m not a vampire,” Weasel responds, nudging the shot toward Wade. Wade isn’t sure what the drink is, but it has a bit of a kick to it and as far as Wade knows, he’s the only one who drinks it. The bottle doesn’t have a label on it. It could be jet engine fuel for all he knows. Whatever. It won’t kill him. At least not permanently. 

“Yeah,” Wade snorts, “and I’m supposed to believe you?” Weasel rolls his eyes, reaching for his dirty bar rag and an empty glass. Wade tosses back his drink and speaks past the burn. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in direct sunlight.” He narrows his eyes. “Or eat garlic.” He strokes his chin. “Suspicious.” 

“You said you fucked up,” Weasel sighs, setting down a somewhat polished glass and reaching for another one. 

**_[Gasp! He’s avoiding the question! Vampire! Get your stake!]_ ** White yells.

_ {He’s avoiding the question because it’s stupid,} _ Yellow says dryly. 

_ I can always spritz him with holy water later, _ Wade thinks to them.  _ Might help with the smell. _

_ {Like you’re one to talk about smell.} _

“Yeah, I fucked up,” Wade sighs, holding up his glass for another shot. Weasel refills it without a word. Wade drinks it, grimacing. The burn isn’t as good the second time “I fucked up bad,” he pulls his mask back down, “‘s why I’m so beat up.” 

“So you decided to drag your nonsense into my bar again? The fuckers who kicked your ass better already be dead, Wade,” Weasel says warningly. 

“No,” Wade admits, sighing, nudging his glass forward again. Maybe he does want one more. “It was Captain America.” 

Weasel freezes, Wade’s liquor in his hand, but not pouring. Wade frowns. “Fuck me, Wade–” Weasel slams the bottle on the bar before he can pour a drop.

“No, thank you.” 

“–are there going to be a bunch of heroes sniffing around here now? What did you _ do _ to get Captain Pacifist to beat you to a pulp?”

Wade snorts. “Yeah, call him that to his face, let’s see how much of a pacifist he is.” He pointedly holds the shot glass up again. “More poison, please?” 

“I wish I could kill you,” Weasel mutters, but pours him some more. “And he’s all about talking and peaceful compromise. That’s a pacifist in my book.” 

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Wade tosses the shot back and leaves his mask up this time. 

“No, I’m a coward,” Weasel snaps, giving him another drink. “And stop fucking changing the subject. Why are you beaten black and blue by good ol’ red, white, and blue?” 

Wade takes his shot and manages to say through the burn, “I had sex with his son.” Weasel drops the bottle of liquor/jet fuel.

**_[It was glorious!]_ ** White howls. 

Weasel is staring at him, mouth stupidly hanging open. Wade frowns and waves a hand in front of Weasel’s face. Weasel isn’t moving at all. Is he breathing? “Weas?” Wade asks. “Did I break ya?”

“I think I’m having a fucking stroke,” Weasel says distractedly, “because I swear I just heard you tell me you had sex with the superkid.” 

“You smell burnt toast?” Wade asks, leaning over the bar and snagging one of the unopened bottles under the bar. He doesn’t care what it is. He cracks the seal and drinks straight from the bottle. 

“What? No. Hey!” Weasel tries to nab the bottle back but Wade keeps it just out of reach. “Fine, keep it, but I’m taking it out of your next job.” 

Wade shrugs. That’s what they do anyway. He takes another gulp. Ugh. Vodka. “So what should I do?” 

“What should you do?” Weasel repeats, eyes wide. “What  _ can _ you do? Unfuck the kid? Oh God, he’s not underage, is he?” 

Wade slams the bottle on the bar. “No, he’s fucking not! Google him! He’s nineteen!”

Weasel looks relieved and shrugs. Wade gets it. The Avengers might not like Wade dipping his wick in the family ink, but underage family ink? Wade would be torn into many teeny tiny pieces and spread over the planets in a few solar systems faster than he could blink. “Well, I don’t know what you can do, Wade. Wanna go back to Canada?” 

Wade groans, letting his head fall onto the bar with a loud  _ bang _ . “No… Canada’s boring.” 

“Well how did the good captain even find out?” Weasel asks. “I doubt the kid would’ve been telling anyone.” 

Wade winces. “I told him.” 

Weasel grabs the back of Wade’s head and lifts it up. The first thing Wade sees is wide eyes filled with genuine concern and that Weasel doesn’t seem to be bothered that Wade’s mask is still rolled up and he’s close to the scars. “Do you have a death wish?” Weasel asks, looking more scared than usual.

“You  _ know _ I do, but this was an accident,” Wade says, limp. 

“How do you accidentally tell the person you fucked’s dad that you fucked them? Seems like something done on purpose and I don’t even think you’re  _ that _ much of a bastard.” 

“I had a good time last night,” Wade admits, pouting, “the best night I’ve had post-Kreuger-fying. Kid ditched in the morning. It was a one night thing and I felt good… I wanted people to know. Only, no one would believe me, so I went to Captain Gives-Me-Benefit-of-the-Doubt because he’d believe me and whoospie, it was his dad.” He frowns. “One of them.” 

Weasel winces and drops Wade’s head. Wade’s forehead smacks into the bartop again and he groans at the impact. “You’re either unlucky or stupid.” 

_ { _ **_[It’s probably both,]_ ** _ } _ the boxes say at the same time. 

“It’s probably both,” Wade repeats out loud. They may be stupid boxes in his head, but they sometimes get something right. 

Weasel snorts. “I guess so. How did you not notice he was their kid? He has to be a mini-celebrity?”

Wade shrugs, head still down. “There’s not a lot on him. Sure, he has a wiki page, but it’s nearly empty and who doesn’t have one of those nowadays? Got his birthday and some of his early life, and a few awards he won in high school. But far as I can tell, the kid keeps out of trouble and out of the public eye. I didn’t even get the kid’s name last night. All I knew was that he wanted to climb  _ this _ ,” he motions vaguely to himself, “for some reason. And after a few check-ins, I wasn’t about to turn him away.” Wade sighs heavily. 

Weasel flicks the top of his head. “What was  _ that?” _ Weasel asks, sounding decidedly unimpressed.

_ “That _ was me breathing,” Wade snipes, turning his head to glare at his friend from his spot on the bar. “I kind of need to do that and it will always come back, but maybe if you pray hard enough–”

“That wasn’t  _ just _ breathing,” Weasel states. “You were sighing like some lovesick middle schooler. What the fuck?”

Wade sits up, mouth hanging open. “What the fuck! No, I wasn’t!” 

“Yeah! You were!” 

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!” 

“Nuh-uh times infinity!” 

Weasel rolls his eyes hard. Wade is surprised that they don’t get stuck. Wade cheers triumphantly. You can’t beat infinity!  _ {What are you? Twelve?} _

“Whatever you say, Junie B. Jones,” Weasel shrugs, looking bored again. “You want me to get you a job out of the country?” He takes Wade’s bottle back, stowing it under the bar. He’ll probably serve it later to his customers, Wade’s spit included. Eh, it’s not like this place is the epitome of class.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Wade asks. 

Weasel shrugs again. “Maybe. I mean you told Captain America and he beat you with his bare hands ‘cause he’s an old fashioned dude. What’ll you think will happen when he tells his ex-weapons creator husband Tony fucking Stark?” Wade freezes. “I know he doesn’t make weapons outside of hero use, but I doubt he’ll try to teach you a lesson with his bare hands like Captain Pacifist.” 

Wade forgot entirely about Tony Stark. Compared to Stark, Wade’s sure that Captain America’s lesson will be about as punishing as a slap on the wrist. Stark is not only highly creative, but  _ insanely  _ protective over his son. Think like a mama bear, but ten times worse, easily. “Shit,” Wade says, shooting to his feet. “I’m gonna hide. Message me with something within the hour, preferably somewhere across the world, or in the middle of nowhere.” Wade starts toward the door. “Hell, I might take an intergalactic job if you’ve got one.” 

“You think getting out of the galaxy will be enough?” 

“I won’t know unless I try!” Wade chirps, winking and giving Weasel a salute. Then he heads for the door at a brisk pace. “Contact me the usual way! I’ll be waiting for my marching orders!” And he runs out the door, his leg pain-free. Weasel’s right about getting gone, at least for a little bit. Maybe Stark’s wrath won’t be too bad when he gets back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)!
> 
> please leave a comment and kudos!
> 
> PS. Please don't hate Tony. I love him <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues on and Peter moves out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's technically Tuesday and I realized that I am a liar and am bumping up my update "schedule" to twice a week. Tuesdays and Fridays. I want to share this story so much that I can barely contain myself !
> 
> I really hope everyone enjoys this and that you continue to stick around to see what happens next <3

Peter puts down the box he’s carrying and stands up with pride, cheeks flushed. He’s standing in the middle of a tiny studio apartment that could use a facelift, but it’s  _ his. _ He’s finally away from his parents. He loves them both, but ever since the Deadpool Incident, they’ve become impossibly overbearing and intrusive in his life. 

More than once, Peter’s seen Tony or one of the Avengers trying to blend into the crowd when he’s out with his friends. Steve, on the other hand (but maybe not the better hand) has become more active in Peter’s life, talking to Peter about his friends and taking him out to hang out. Spending more time with his pops isn’t an inherently bad thing, but Peter wants to spend time with his friends. And Steve has been using their time together to interrogate Peter (subtly, but not subtly  _ enough _ ) about everything in his life. Probably to figure out how much Deadpool was part of Peter’s life since he never outright said it, but his questions did revolve around his friends. 

Now, he loves his dads, and the rest of the Avengers–they’re family–but Peter has reached his limit and he needs to have his own space. How is he supposed to grow while being smothered by everyone’s misplaced concern? Everyone has been so far up Peter’s butt that he hasn’t been able to sneak off and be Spider-Man in the two weeks that he’s been ungrounded, which is a full  _ month _ of no Spider-Man. His grounding was a tech- and friend-free two weeks that was annoying, but not too difficult to bear, with an indefinite probationary period in Tony’s lab where every single thing he does in the lab was double-checked by Tony himself or Bruce. Two weeks isn’t a long time, objectively, but it is when he’s used to sneaking out almost every night and swinging through Manhattan. 

Peter needs space, hence the move. 

Tony isn’t happy with the move; he’s scared that Peter is still too young to strike out on his own and his mind producing every single worst-case scenario of what could happen with Peter, and he’s been sharing those thoughts with Peter. Although that wasn’t a tactic to scare Peter, not really. That would just be a secondary benefit. Tony shared those scenarios so he could explain the contingencies that he had come up with so Peter could learn them, but Peter highly doubts that Chinese takeout left for too long will try to smother him in his sleep. 

He does take the fire safety lesson to heart, though. He’s taken one before, since it’s a prerequisite to working in the lab. It’s good to brush up on that sort of stuff, but to also include techniques for combating certain kinds of kitchen fires that he should learn, but hopefully never use. 

Steve, on the other hand, is acting like a parent who is nervous to see their kid leave the nest, but also filled with pride. He’s helped Peter find this place and go through the paperwork for it. It’s not like Peter hasn’t lived away from home before: he did have to stay in dorms for his freshman year. Granted, he came home most days and weekends… so it’s more like he had a place on campus to nap, but he was really living at the Tower still. Peter knows he had a roommate, but he could not pick him out of a crowd.

So… he probably hasn’t really lived away from home before… 

Doesn’t matter! Now he has his own place!

Or… kind of. He’s renting this place, much to Tony’s horror. Steve was ecstatic, saying the experience will be good for him, especially when it comes to budgeting. Although Tony has put enough money in Peter’s account that he isn’t in any danger of running out soon, even if he went on a shopping spree for Lamborghinis or rare, exotic pets. Peter’s tuition for the semester has already been fully paid, so all he has to worry about is living expenses. 

The space is a lot smaller than he’s used to, the entire apartment the size of his bedroom in the Tower. He could’ve gotten a bigger, nicer place, especially with Tony’s generous allowance, but Peter doesn’t like the idea of having a space so large for one person. A studio apartment is more than enough for just one guy. And this particular apartment has a window that opens onto nowhere: perfect for sneaking out as Spider-Man. 

Peter also prefers a small space because he doesn’t really  _ need _ a lot of stuff and a bigger space will compel him to fill it with junk. All he has his a box of kitchen stuff that includes enough flatware and cutlery for four people and his precious coffee maker, two boxes for the living room–or living space, since it’s one big room–one with his DVD player and game consoles, the other with the respective DVDs and games, three boxes full of clothes, a haphazard bundle of bedding that Peter swore he wrapped tight but it’s loose again, and a backpack stuffed to bursting with his school supplies. Oh, and a suitcase with wheels that has his textbooks in it. Peter may have superstrength, but those wheels are a lifesaver. 

His furniture (all bought used) is sparse and more or less in place, courtesy of his Pops and Thor. He has a tiny kitchen table with four mismatched, but sturdy chairs, a slightly worn couch, a chipped TV stand with his TV on it, but it’s not plugged in yet, and a well-worn, sturdy dresser that’s  _ way _ heavier than it looks. The only new thing he has is his bedframe and mattress, already set up, if naked, and pushed into the far corner of the living space. Steve had tried to convince Tony to let Peter take his bed from the Tower, but Tony wouldn’t have it,  _ insisting _ Peter needed somewhere to sleep when he visited. Forget that there’s at least one spare bedroom on their floor, and forget all the guest  _ floors _ at the Tower. So, reluctantly, Steve allowed Tony to purchase Peter a bed. Peter is sure that it will be stupid luxurious. 

Looking over the space, Peter already has ideas about what to do to make it feel more homey. He’s thinking about bookshelves, rugs, maybe curtains? The ones hanging up look pretty well worn and can only be called ‘curtains’ out of respect for how long they’ve served. He excitedly paces down the small ‘hallway’ that has a window without a view at the end of it. It’s barely a hallway, kind of an offset that has a couple of doors. The first to the left is the bathroom that is big enough for a shower/tub combo, a sink, and a toilet. The shower curtain looks old and Peter should get a rug for the middle of the room. The door beside the bathroom is a shallow linen closet. Towels. He needs to buy towels. 

The last door opposite the bathroom is a decent-sized closet, and there is another, smaller one near the front door for jackets and boots. Winter stuff. He needs winter clothes. 

His stomach turns uneasily. Is this a good idea? He’s already forgotten simple stuff like towels and, now that he thinks about it, extra sheets for his bed. He chews on his fingernail and he’s backing up towards the living space, eyes on the closet door. He bumps into his desk. Right! His desk! How could he forget about that? It’s the only piece of furniture that he could convince his dad to let him take from the Tower. Where’s he going to put it? He definitely didn’t pick this apartment for its size (even if that’s the reason he told his dads), but that window without a view. Will his desk even fit anywhere comfortably? It feels like the only thing he didn’t forget to pack was his Spider-Man stuff. 

“Is that all you need?” Steve asks, making Peter jump. Steve is walking in through the open door, too busy watching his feet to notice Peter’s jump. He’s carrying a boxful of some of Peter’s favorite books and some of his spidey-notes hidden in plain-looking notebooks. Thor is following, carrying Peter’s desk chair like it weighs nothing. Tony opted out of move-in day, claiming he had something to do, but Steve tattled to Peter that his dad couldn’t stop crying and he didn’t want Peter to see him like that. He promised that Tony would visit once Peter was settled. 

“I think so,” Peter says nervously. It’s all starting to hit him in this moment: he’s going to be alone, for the first time since he was adopted. The excitement of leaving the nest evaporates and he’s left feeling small. He wraps his arms around himself. “D-Do you think I need anything else?” 

Steve smiles softly at him and pulls Peter into a hug without saying anything. Tears start falling from Peter’s eyes, unbidden. What the hell? “It’s okay. It’s a little scary,” Steve whispering, rocking Peter slightly. “But you’ll love it. You’ll never want to live with us again.” 

Peter laughs, hugging Steve back. He’s holding on a little tighter than he usually does. “I don’t know about that… I’m kinda… it’s hitting me right now. I don’t get it… I mean I’ve lived away from home before.” 

Steve shakes his head, gently holding the back of Peter’s head as Peter buries his face in the side of Steve’s neck in a poor attempt to hide his tears. “No, this is different. This is your own place, to do with as you please. Not like a dorm room. It’s gonna be great.” 

Peter sniffles and nods. His pops has no reason to lie to him about this. “It’s still scary,” he whispers, trying not to shake. 

“And it will be, but this is good.” Steve pushes them apart and Peter wipes lamely at his face while looking his pops in the eye. He’s smiling. “I’m really proud of you, Peter.” 

And that does it. The dam breaks and Peter’s crying. No measly eye wipes are going to hide the fact that he’s bawling now. Peter has no idea why, though; he isn’t sad, or even that scared, but he’s crying like he’s never going to see his dads again. Steve doesn’t judge him, pulling Peter back into his arms and quietly stroking his hair and rocking them back and forth. 

This goes on for a bit until Peter pulls away first, collecting himself. Then he remembers that Thor is here, too. But the god is politely looking somewhere else as he stands next to the door, quiet and patient. “How about,” Steve says, catching Peter’s attention and gently wiping the tears off his face with a soft smile, “me and Thor go and get you some necessities since we have the truck? And while we’re gone, you can start unpacking?”

Peter sniffles and nods. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, his smile wobbling on his face, “that sounds like a good idea.” 

“You don’t mind shopping with me, Thor?” Steve asks, patting Peter on the shoulder before turning to the door. 

“Of course not, Steven!” Thor booms, much too loud for the tiny space. Peter giggles. “I am more than willing to help young Peter get settled into his new home. Let’s shop!” He strikes a mighty pose for a beat then rushes out the door, giving a battle cry that is sure to upset some of the neighbors, but Peter and Steve laugh. Peter is sure Thor did that purposely to get them laughing. He might act the fool, but Thor is smarter than he looks.

When they calm down, Steve gives Peter another smile, kissing his forehead. “We’ll be right back, but lock the door behind us. We’ll knock.” 

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s endured a million lectures from both his dads about the dangers of living alone and the precautions he should be taking. While Tony’s lectures ranged from practical to impossible dangerous scenarios, Steve’s lectures have been last-minute and punctuated with lessons on how to take care of himself–lessons that have ranged from how to not give himself food poisoning, to how to mend his socks when they get holes in them. Apparently that’s still a thing, and a thing that Steve still does, on top of everything else. Peter isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him or not, because Peter can’t recall a single instance where he’s seen Steve doing that. But the ‘Make sure you lock the door behind you’ lecture has been given a few times by both of them, separately and together. “I know, Pops.” He wipes his face again. “I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

Steve ruffles his hair and walks out the door, closing it behind him. Peter follows after he takes a few deep breaths and engages the deadbolt. He turns, leaning back against the door, and takes everything in. It feels different without Steve and Thor here. Sure, they’ll be back, but this is  _ his _ place. It almost feels… cool. 

Peter shakes his head and pushes off the door. He needs to unpack some stuff without people around. The first thing he does is collect his Spider-Man uniform, assorted accessories, and notebooks, and hides them in the back of his closet. It’ll do for now until he comes up with a better system. But everything else he can unpack in front of his pops or Thor without suspicion. 

He starts with his clothes, sorting them between what can be put in the dresser and what needs to be hung up, but he can’t find his hangers. He could swear he packed them. Whatever can be put into the dresser is refolded and put away carefully. The thing is already heavy and it may need to be moved, but his strength will help with that. If he doesn’t get Thor to do it before he leaves, he’ll just have to wait until he’s alone to rearrange the furniture. 

He’s almost done with his clothes (he found the hangers in a tangled mess underneath his socks and, for the record, why the fuck does he have so many socks??) when there’s a knock on the door. Peter’s heart leaps into his throat and he rushes to the door, peeking through the peephole (he got a very serious lecture from Steve about using it) and has to stifle a laugh at what he sees. Steve and Thor are weighed down with grocery bag after grocery bag. They must have one-tripped it and even they seem to be struggling. Although it makes sense that they did it all in one trip, since Peter’s building doesn’t have an elevator and Peter is on the third floor. He’s tempted to ask for a password, but he doesn’t want to be mean, so he opens the door with a smile, stepping aside to give them room to pass. 

Steve gives Peter a strained smile in greeting, shuffling in first. Thor follows, moving like the weight doesn’t affect him, despite the slight tremor in his biceps. Peter eyes their haul warily. Is he going to have room for everything? Sure, he has a high metabolism and he can eat on par with Steve some days, but this apartment is tiny and his kitchen? Tinier. Steve sighs as he sets everything onto the kitchen floor. “Sorry, I know it looks like a lot, but I forgot all about cleaning supplies and whatnot, so we got all that stuff for you, too,” Steve says while rifling through some bags.

“Oh,” Peter says, feeling uncomfortable, “right.”  _ Another _ thing he forgot about. Will he ever be able to function on his own? 

“I think most of the cleaning stuff is in these bags,” Steve continues distractedly, setting aside four bags. Although that doesn’t matter much when Thor stands next to them. It looks like too much. “Oh! I also got you laundry detergent! That’s–” he grabs one of the bags from Thor, ignoring the god’s squawk of protest at the treatment– “here!” He pulls it out of the bag, smiling like he’s won a prize. Peter stares at his pops in confusion. How can he be so excited? Peter didn’t remember any of this stuff. Shouldn’t Steve be worried?

“Thanks, Pop,” Peter mutters, overwhelmed. 

Steve frowns. “Is everything okay?” 

Peter swallows and nods. “Yeah… I’m just… it’s all a little overwhelming.” 

“Oh, Peter,” Steve says, carefully navigating through the sea of groceries to pull Peter into another strong hug. Peter melts into it easily. Why is this so hard? “It’ll be okay.” He squeezes Peter. “Do you want us to go?”

“We can assist you with organizing your kitchen,” Thor suggests. 

Peter thinks for a minute. He loves his pops, he loves his Uncle Thor, and he knows that having them here would make the work go by three times as fast, but the whole point of this moving out thing was to make it on his own. Sure, he didn’t buy his own groceries, not that he’s upset that his pops did it, but he feels like he should be alone. “Thank you... but no,” Peter says slowly. “I think I need to do this on my own…” He looks to Steve uncertainly. “If that’s okay.” He doesn’t want to hurt his pops’ feelings about this. Peter knows how excited Steve has been about helping Peter move. 

Steve gives him a bone-crushing hug. “It’s more than okay, Peter.” He kisses the top of Peter’s head. “We’ll head out now, let you get settled. Be sure to call, whether you need help or if you just want to talk, okay?” 

Peter relaxes and nods. “Yeah.” He gives Steve his own bone-crushing hug in return (strength modified, but he’s frazzled enough that he almost forgets to do it). “Love you, Pops. Thanks for today.” 

“Love you too, Peter. Don’t be a stranger.” When Steve pulls back, his eyes look a little wet. Peter almost starts crying again at the sight, but he doesn’t have time to do that because Thor is in front of him, lifting Peter off the ground in his own hug. Peter grunts as the air is squeezed from his lungs. 

“The Tower will be silent without you there, young Peter!” Thor booms, twisting back and forth as Peter’s legs dangle uselessly. 

“I’m sure it’ll be just as loud,” Peter says, strained. Thor releases him and Peter takes a deep breath and stumbles to stay upright. Thor’s hands on his shoulders help a lot. 

Thor looks Peter straight in the eyes, “It will not be the same,” he says, voice carrying a level of gravitas that reminds Peter that Thor is a god. It’s easy to forget he’s mythological with how he’s just been goofy Uncle Thor for Peter’s whole life. “But I wish you the best of luck, young Peter. May this new home bring you many blessings.” 

“Thanks, Thor,” Peter says, smiling. He’s going to miss everyone at the Tower, but now that they’ve said their goodbyes, Peter kind of can’t wait for them to leave. 

“Talk to you soon, Peter,” Steve says, nudging Thor on the arm. Thor takes it as a signal to leave. Peter gives Steve another hug at the door, Thor picking them  _ both _ up in his own arms for an extra hug from him. Everyone is laughing as they leave, chuckles lingering on Peter’s tongue as he locks the door behind them. 

He stands at his locked door again like earlier, his back to it, and takes in the chaos of his apartment. This morning, this space was empty, save for the fridge and oven. Now it looks full, so much of his stuff littering the space, but Peter can picture in his head what it’ll look like when he’s fully settled. He smiles. But first things first, he deals with the groceries. 

He checks for frozen stuff first, stuffing it all haphazardly into the freezer, but taking more time to organize everything that has to go into the fridge. The cupboards don’t get as much care as the fridge, but the bags start to empty. It’s a little surreal to see everything get put away, but also to be able to organize his space how he wants to. He doesn’t have to put the hot sauce in a specific place because if he doesn’t, Clint will take a chug of that instead of his OJ in the morning; he doesn’t have to set aside a full cupboard of Pop-Tarts for Thor (although there are two boxes in the grocery pile); or have a box of his dad’s gross power bars if he doesn’t want them;  _ and  _ he can definitely stock up on Doritos or broccoli or strawberries or  _ whatever _ Peter desires. This is  _ his _ house. 

He’s almost giddy as he puts everything away. He leaves a cupboard empty for pots and pans (which he also forgot, but he doesn’t feel bad about it now, just excited), but otherwise manages to put away all the groceries and is left with a graveyard of plastic bags. He collects them, stuffing them into one bag and storing them under the sink, putting away the cleaning supplies as he does so. He also puts away his flatware and cutlery, needing to move some stuff around for space. His coffee maker goes on the counter, next to an outlet. Then he moves into the living area. He should set up his TV, but he doesn’t have the Internet set up yet, so no Netflix, unless he wants to watch it on his phone. 

Although… he can do  _ whatever  _ he wants. He doesn’t need to have the TV set up yet because he has something a lot more fun than rotting his brain with TV shows. He darts to the closet and excitedly digs out his Spider-Man costume. It’s been a long month since the friendly neighborhood menace has made an appearance. Jameson has been getting too relaxed, so why not go out? 

He turns off his lights, changes, and crawls out his window in less than five minutes. Then he’s soaring through the air, whooping and spinning, and cartwheeling and whatever else he wants to do because he can do what he wants! It feels so good to be out, swinging between the buildings again. Sure, he should be listening for crime, but he needs a moment to readjust to flying again. 

He’s a fair distance from his apartment when he hears a sharp whistle. He flips in the air and spots a large masked man, waving at him excitedly from the roof of one of the buildings. “Deadpool!” Peter says excitedly, in too good of a mood to try and modulate his excitement at seeing the merc again. A month without Spidey has meant a whole month without Deadpool. Peter changes direction and barrels towards Deadpool. 

“Spide–oof!” Wade grunts as Peter collides with him at high speed and they go flying back. Peter laughs when they skid to a stop and he flops onto the roof beside Wade, looking up at the starless sky. He feels so light. “Hey, Spidey,” Wade says, sounding a little winded. 

“Hi, Deadpool!” Peter greets, wrapping himself around Wade’s arm, snuggling close. Wade tenses under him. That’s not normal. Peter sits up and looks down at Wade in confusion. “Is everything okay?” 

“I feel like I should be asking  _ you _ that,” Wade says, still sounding tense and eyes up on the sky. “You  _ never _ cuddle me. Are you a skrull?” 

“What?” Peter laughs and then suddenly remembers that Wade doesn’t know they slept together. And Spider-Man doesn’t initiate contact with Deadpool. At least nothing more than a pat on the shoulder or back for a job well done. Peter flinches back, scooting away from Wade, even though that‘s the last thing he wants to do. His stomach doesn’t feel very happy with him. “Sorry…” Peter says, trying to sound unshaken. “...just… happy.” 

“I make you happy?” Wade asks incredulously. 

“No,” Peter says automatically, the word bitter on his tongue and he flinches again. He really means  _ yes, yes yes, you make me so happy _ , but can he tell Wade that? He clears his throat. “I mean… good things happened today and I’m in a really good mood.” Peter shrugs, looking down and grateful that he has a mask covering his blush. “And I was happy to see my friend after so long.” 

“Awwwww,” Deadpool coos, sounding much more like himself, “did you miss lil’ ol’ me?” 

Peter won’t admit to that, rolling his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, ‘Pool.” Peter jumps to his feet. “Now, you ready to go out?” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” Wade leers, the banter familiar.

Yet… “No!” Peter says loudly, sounding much like a pre-teen denying they have a crush on someone. The joke is so familiar, Wade says it every time they pair up together. Peter shouldn’t be so weird about it, he should roll his eyes and playfully shove Wade, but he can’t. “I mean… no thanks.” But he knows the damage has already been done. 

Wade is looking at the ground, shoulders tense. Shit.  _ He _ did that to Wade. “I think… I need to go and see Weasel. He still owes me pay.” 

Peter swallows, uncomfortable. Partly because he knows Wade is lying. Weasel knows better than to hold out on paying his mercs, even his so-called ‘best friend.’ It isn’t good for business to be lazy with the pay. No, what bothers Peter the most is the reminder that Wade’s day job is being a  _ mercenary _ . Still, Peter has no right to complain about the jobs Wade takes. It’s a cold, harsh reminder why he has to keep Peter and Spider-Man separate. “O-Okay,” Peter says. “Maybe we can meet up later?” He may not be able to go further with Wade, personally, but Peter still considers him a friend. 

Wade’s head tilts to the side, confused. “Later?” 

Peter nods. “Yeah, I’d love to catch up with you. ‘S been a while and…” he can’t believe he’s about to actually say this, “...I missed you.” It’s true, he’s missed Wade a lot over the past month. If he’s honest (but he isn’t, not even with himself) Peter is missing Wade in more than one way. Maybe it’s not so bad to let a friend know you’ve missed them? Even if that friend is Wade Wilson.

“Okay!” Wade agrees, jumping to his feet much too gracefully for someone with his bulk. Bulk that Peter is intimately familiar w… Peter shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts. He doesn’t notice Wade is close to him until he’s lifted off the ground in a crushing hug. Peter’s arms are pinned to his sides, so all he can do is wiggle and kick his legs. “I missed you too, Spidey!” Wade squeals. He drops Peter without warning, but his hands stay on Peter’s shoulders. “Be careful though, if I think you like spending time with me, I might mistake you for a groupie.” 

Peter is  _ mortified _ at how red his face goes. He’s thankful for the mask, but he’s sure he’s radiating heat. Peter scoffs and shakes off Wade’s hands, stepping towards the edge of the roof. “Three hours, Deadpool,” he says, hoping his voice isn’t giving away how flustered he is. “In front of the taco cart!” he adds, jumping off the ledge before Wade can respond. 

Although he can hear Wade yelling after him, “Your wish is my command!” 

* * *

Three hours later (well more like three hours and fifteen minutes, because Peter had to break up a bar fight that spilled into the street), Peter arrives at the taco cart where Wade bought Peter their first meal together. That was the turning point of their relationship, evolving from unlikely comrades to actual friends??’ In the time their friendship has blossomed, this taco cart has become ‘their’ spot, the owner keeping a little longer hours so Peter and Wade can get their stuff. At first, Peter was uncomfortable with the special treatment, but Wade always made it worth the guy’s time. And… well… the food’s good, too, and Peter is only human. 

Wade already has armloads of food and Marco is cleaning up his stand. “Hey, Marco,” Peter greets, jogging the last few feet. 

Marco looks up from his cleaning and smiled widely. “Hey, Spider-Man–” 

“Spidey!” Wade says excitedly.

“–long time, no see,” Marco continues like Wade didn’t interrupt him. “Was worried you ditched New York for some fancier place.” 

Peter snorts. “Fancier place? LIke where?” he laughs, Marco chuckling along with him. “And I can’t get your tacos anywhere else. Why would I leave?” 

Marco laughs. “A Spider-Man endorsement,” he says, shaking his head. “What a world.” 

Peter smiles. “Well, thank you, Marco. I hope I’ll see you around more.” He walks over to Wade and helps with the food. “Hey, Deadpool.” 

“Hey, Spidey,” Wade sighs. That sound makes Peter’s heart flutter. It feels…  _ intimate _ .

Peter has to clear his throat. “Let’s go,” he says. He takes the lead and runs to the top of the closest apartment building, then sits on the edge of the roof, legs kicking in the open air. He hums as he checks the food he took from Wade, debating on if he should wait for Wade to join him. Wade won’t be long, but he has to use the fire escape if his grapple gun isn’t working. Ah, he can always get Wade next time. 

He’s one taco down when Wade sits down beside him, legs swinging over the edge, taking a beat before matching with Peter’s swinging legs. Wade is panting a bit, but he digs straight into his food. Peter happily continues to eat, enjoying Wade’s quiet (for now) company. He’s also keeping his eyes purposely forward. Wade still hasn’t shown Spider-Man his face and it’s taken a  _ long  _ time to talk Wade out of back-toback eating. Wade trusts Spider-Man not to look, even though Peter has caught glimpses out of the corners of his eyes before. Although his sideways glances are nothing compared to that night when he got to see Wade’s whole face. Has it really only been a month since he’s seen Wade?

As Peter is musing on this, Wade asks (with his mouth full), “So what’s Marco saying about that he hasn’t seen you around in a while?” He swallows loudly. “Do you only see him when I’m in town?” 

Peter frowns, swallowing his own bite before answering. “No, I’ve been too busy to come out. It’s been about a month since I’ve been on the streets. Haven’t you noticed?” 

“Nope,” Wade says, food flying out of his mouth. He’s such a messy eater. “I just got back from overseas. Went into a bit of hiding, you see.” 

“What do you need to hide from?” Peter snorts. “I thought nothing scared you.” 

Wade laughs loudly. “Oh, Spidey! If you only knew!” 

Peter looks at Wade and his mask is still rolled up, the bottom half of his face exposed. Quickly Peter looks away. He has visceral memories of those scarred lips and he can’t think about that, otherwise the exposed part of his face will turn bright red. “C’mon Wade,” Peter says, trying to push past any awkwardness he’s feeling. “I thought we were friends. What’s got you so scared?” 

Peter is still facing forward, but he’s keeping Wade in his periphery. Wade laughs uncomfortably and scratches at his chin. “Well,” he chuckles again, “honestly? Iron Man.” 

“Iron Man?” Peter repeats, trying to think of a reason Wade would need to feel scared of Tony Stark. Sure, Tony doesn’t like Wade, but that’s never stopped Wade from antagonizing him. “What’d you do?” 

“I may have…” he clears his throat awkwardly, “...I may have slept with his son.” Peter’s heart squeezes in his chest. Is Wade going to start bragging again? Is he about to get a front row experience to the so-called ‘locker room talk’? “And I may have been bragging about that to Captain America…” 

“Wade,” Peter says reproachfully. Maybe he can give Wade a well-meaning lecture about privacy and hopefully head off any attempts at selling the story.

“I know, I was stupid,” Wade says quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m pretty sure I was still high.” 

“High?” Peter repeats. That’s not what Peter expected to hear at all. “You can’t get high, Wade. Your healing factor–” 

“Oh, trust me, Spidey,” Wade interrupts. “I was on an all-natural high, even when Captain America kicked my ass to Sunday and back.” 

Peter is blushing again. Thank god for masks. He rolls his own mask down for good measure. “Well, why would you go telling his parents? That’s just  _ asking _ for trouble.” Maybe Wade doesn’t need a lecture about privacy...

“In my defense, I didn’t know he was their kid.” 

“Would you not have done it if you had known?” Peter finds himself asking. Oh God, why is he asking that? Why can’t he just lecture Wade? 

Wade looks at Peter and he doesn’t flinch when he sees that Peter is looking at him. His mask is still up and his mouth is turned down into a small frown. “I’m not sure I follow…” 

Peter takes a breath. “If you’d knew he was Tony and Steve’s kid, would you have said no?” He  _ really _ can’t believe he’s asking this, but also wants to know. He’s also terrified that Wade will say yes. 

“Now, I never said that,” Wade says, sounding a little awkward and looking back over the streets. “Maybe I should’ve said no, I don’t need another reason for Iron Dildo to hate me, but I can’t honestly say I would. Kid’s an adult.” Wade shrugs and Peter lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He’s also staring at Wade’s profile, allowing his eyes to trace over the scars. Wade doesn’t seem to mind, or maybe he doesn’t notice. “And I don’t think anyone can blame me for being tempted, he’s a real looker and, not gonna lie, he has a face that’s hard to say no to.” 

Peter blushes and looks away. Wade thinks he’s hot? No, wait. No. He shouldn’t be talking about this stuff with Wade at all. It feels like he's doing something wrong. “A lot of things make sense, looking back,” Wade says with a sigh. 

“Like what?” Peter asks then immediately bites his tongue, like he can punish it for speaking without permission. He needs to  _ stop. _

“Like how easily he accepted all of me,” Wade states. “He probably checked Tony’s file on me or something.” There’s a small pause. “Not sure how I feel about Tony having a picture of my face, though.” 

“He doesn’t,” Peter says quickly, needing to reassure Wade. 

“How would you know that?” Wade asks. 

Peter sucks in a sharp breath. Right. How can he explain knowing that without admitting he’s Peter? He tenses, coughs, and opens his mouth. “I… uh… maybe looked at those files myself…” True, but is it too much? Peter spares a glance in Wade’s direction.

Wade’s mouth drops open. “Spidey… are you saying you committed a  _ crime? Data espionage?” _ Peter looks away. Technically yes, he did. “I think I’m in love.” 

“I just wanted to see what he had on me. I  _ do _ have a secret identity to keep up,” Peter defends himself. He’s never thought of it as a crime, he was just looking at his dad’s files. If he wasn’t Tony’s son, people would be upset that he stuck his nose in those files. He’s also not lying about why he checked the files in the first place. He  _ was _ making sure Spider-Man’s secret identity was safe (Identity: unknown, officially), but he saw Deadpool’s file and was curious. So he had a teeny, tiny peek.

“Oh, Spidey,” Wade swoons. “I  _ love _ this bad boy side of you! It really gets my engine going!” 

Peter laughs and shoves Wade playfully. “Stop that. It’s not like I’m going to share any information I found.” 

“Oh, but you did! No pictures of your favorite merc!” Wade giggles. Then sighs. “That’s a relief.” And he does sound relieved. Peter’s heart aches for him. “But it also explains why Peter went after a suit.” 

“Are you sure he was going after any old suit?” Peter asks, feeling slightly defensive and offended. Wade saying that makes him sound like some sort of… hero chaser, like he’s trying to sleep with anyone who wears a suit and fights crime.

“He seemed unsure… probably scraping the bottom of the barrel to build some confidence,” Wade shrugs. “That’s okay, though. Before you know it, Peter Parker and all his names will be hanging off the arm of one of the prettier supers.” He chuckles. “Especially if his parents have anything to say about it.” 

Peter’s heart breaks at the resignation in Wade’s demeanor, but he also gets angry. He isn’t living with his parents anymore. They have  _ no say _ in what Peter does with his life. Even if he  _ did _ still live with his dads, they wouldn’t have a say. “You don’t think Peter liked you for you? That he wanted to be with  _ you _ and not some pretty super.” Wow. He sounds  _ very _ defensive now. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he’s not Peter right now, he’s Spider-Man. He’s only had practice as Peter not being defensive over Spider-Man, not the other way around.

Wade laughs, slapping Peter on the back. “I know you like making jokes, Spidey, but this is an old one.” Peter glowers at him for the slap. Wade slouches, defeated. “And even if he did like me at all before, I doubt he likes me after I blabbed about our night together to his dad.” 

“So you told his dad,” Peter finds himself saying. What the hell is he saying?! “So what? I’m sure if you apologized, he’d listen.” 

Wade scoffs. “I doubt that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I really blew my chance of a round two by opening my big mouth.” Wade leans on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, slouching over. It’s a pretty sad picture to see. 

Peter puts a gentle hand on Wade’s arm. “You don’t  _ know _ that, Wade. He could really like you.”  _ What _ is he saying?!

Wade shrugs off Peter’s touch. “Yeah, right.” He sighs and gives Peter a Look. Peter can only see the bottom half of his face and his lips are pressed into a thin line. “And what’s with you, Spidey? You’re never this nice to me. I know you said you weren’t a skrull, but I’m not so sure now.” 

Peter punches him in the arm. Not super hard, but enough to make Wade make a sound of pain. He rubs his arm, pouting. It’s  _ not _ cute. “I’m always nice!” Peter says, even if it isn’t exactly true. He wasn’t nice to Wade when they first met, but that’s not the point! He keeps on forgetting that he has to pretend he doesn’t know Wade more intimately. Not that their night together meant anything! It didn’t! Peter’s just been out of the game too long. The Spider-Man game! The game of keeping his lives separate! 

“Don’t take my advice then,” Peter says haughtily, nose in he air. Which would be a good thing: Wade ignoring his advice. There’s nothing unsaid between them. It was just one night. Why is Peter trying to convince Wade to see Peter again? This is too weird. Peter shakes his head and stands up. He nudges Wade’s shoulder with his knee. “It was nice to see you again, Wade. Thanks for the food.” Wade’s mouth drops open. Peter tries not to feel guilty over that reaction. Has he ever thanked Wade before? “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

Wade nods, mask still half rolled up his face. “O-Okay… see you around, Spidey.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter what are you doing?? 
> 
> Here's my [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! they make me wanna post faster!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is getting into the routine of living alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually keeping to the schedule! BUT friday came like, out of nowhere. It was 3 AM and i'm like "OH NO!" so i got this all done! I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Spoilery warning: some sexy stuff

It’s been a couple of weeks since Peter has started living on his own. A couple weeks of… not doing much, if he’s being honest. He didn’t know that living alone could be… boring, but it kind of is. If he’s not going to class, working on homework, or out on patrol as Spider-Man, his life is boring. His Internet was set up two days after move-in day and he’s been going through Netflix like it’s going out of style. He’s seen all sorts of shows he never would have considered before, but it’s the only way to kill time between classes and patrol. Well, if ‘kill time’ is synonymous with rotting out Peter’s brain. 

And grocery shopping! How do people do it?! He’s already gone to the store  _ three times _ this week and he always forgets something. And lists don’t help because every time he writes one up, he forgets it at home! It’s a vicious cycle of forgetfulness (and the hours of mind-rotting TV probably aren’t helping) and now it’s day seven without mustard. This wouldn’t be an issue if he weren’t craving a ham sandwich and he has  _ everything else _ to make one,  **_except for mustard._ ** Three. Times. He’s gone  _ three times and _ he gets a  _ million _ other things, but  _ no mustard. _ How do people shop?! What’s the secret?! Is it in some handbook you’re supposed to get when you turn eighteen? Did Peter’s get lost in the mail? 

And his apartment! He had it all nice and neat and everything was in place, but now it’s messy,  _ despite _ all the free time he has. He doesn’t know  _ how _ his place got to this state, but everything is piled up and it’s been long enough to accumulate into a mess. He gives another angry glare to the pile of dirty clothes at the end of his bed, a constant reminder that he has to buy a laundry basket. He needs at least one, if not two, so he can carry his stuff to the basement to use the laundry facilities. The change he needs for the laundry is in his cupboard, but he isn’t about to risk dropping a pair of dirty underwear on his trek down the stairs. Nope,  _ no-sireee. _

_ AND _ because he’s an  _ adult _ and he can do what he wants, he’s eating Lucky Charms for supper, too angry about the lack of ham sandwiches to find the patience to make anything else. He curled up in the corner of his couch, Netflix turned to the next popular, mind-numbing garbage. His kitchen table is covered with his textbooks and he’s taking extra care not to look at the homework he should be doing, but he has time. He’s also trying to ignore the leftover moving boxes, the ones that house his books, movies, and video games next to his TV stand. Yes, everything has its place, but he needs bookshelves to sort everything out. And he’s only set up his ps4, so he could watch Netflix. 

He  _ should _ be adding the finishing touches to his place, like buying bookshelves and other odds and ends to make this place more functional (he swears that his clothes are glaring back at him now). But instead of doing all that boring stuff, he’s spilling milk down the front of his shirt because he can’t get comfortable on the couch. One of the throw pillows (Peter actually isn’t sure where they came from) is bunched up under his butt and Peter, being the genius he is, doesn’t want to spill milk, so he’s keeping both hands on the bowl, instead of just using his hand to fix it. But every time he moves, the milk sloshes over the side of the bowl.

The stupid movie he picked is already playing, but Peter hasn’t been paying attention to it. He also can’t remember what he picked in the first place. And now he’s starting to spoon cereal into his mouth, while still trying to get comfortable, to hopefully eat the cereal before it gets soggy. He’s feeling frustrated, but he’s not doing a damn thing to change his approach. Apparently, the wiggling is  _ going  _ to work, despite all the evidence to the contrary. 

Is living alone making him insane? 

Before he can ponder that bit of existentialism, there’s a knock at the door. Peter frowns. He’s not expecting anyone: he already talked to his dads today and they’re in for the night, and Ned and MJ don’t know his address yet. His dads invited him home for supper tonight. Why did he say no again? Right. Ham sandwiches. 

Peter growls slightly, putting his bowl on the couch beside him, hits pause on his movie while he stands, then brushes all the food he spilled on himself to the ground, sighing as he does so. He’s going to have to sweep. Whatever. He goes to the door and peeks through the peephole and freezes, concerns about having to sweep leaving him immediately. 

The person on the other side of Peter’s door looks like a pretty big guy, dressed in dark, baggy clothes, with a hood up to cover his face. Peter definitely wasn’t expecting this guy. He wonders if this is going to be trouble. Should he get his web shooters? Peter can’t even see the guy’s face, they’re looking down the hall. Would it be suspicious for Peter to have his shooters? He could probably take this guy on hand to hand, but would  _ that  _ be risky? Maybe he should get his shooters, just in case. 

But as he moves to retrieve them, the person on the other side of the door clears their throat. Peter tenses. “Peter?” they ask. 

Peter’s eyes go wide. He  _ knows _ that voice. “Wade?” he asks in disbelief, still looking out the peephole. 

Wade looks up and Peter gets a clear, if distorted, look of his face. Peter can’t believe his eyes: Wade isn’t wearing his mask. The only other time Peter’s seen Wade’s bare face is that night. “Peter, I’m sorry to be bothering you at home–” 

Peter throws open the door, cutting Wade’s words off, but Peter wants to see his face with his own eyes, not through glass. Wade freezes, locking up, and he stares at Peter, who is standing dumbly in his doorway. Peter stares into Wade’s eyes and tries to remember the reason why he wanted to open the door, but it’s hard to focus on something silly like  _ reason _ when he can see the blue of Wade’s eyes unimpeded. “W-Wade?” he says, hating how stupid he sounds. 

“I’m sorry,” Wade repeats, seeming to snap himself out of whatever state he was in, but he’s moving his arms stiffly. They’re moving like a parody of how Wade normally talks with his hands. “I know this is weird, but I had to talk to you. I should’ve called you, the computer gave me your number–” 

“JARVIS?” Peter asks in disbelief. 

Wade nods quickly. “Uh-huh, I went to the Tower, hat in hand, ready to give you a proper apology, one that you deserve, but Tony Stank told me to beat it, but the computer asked a few questions and bada-bing! I had your number.” He gives Peter awkward finger guns. Peter frowns. “Uh… I should’ve called you. I  _ should’ve _ called. Why did I have to do this in person?” Wade is starting to look panicked and Peter has no way to interrupt.  _ “I know he’s hotter than we remember,” _ he hisses and Peter blushes. Wade is most likely talking to the boxes, but Peter rubs the back of his neck, flattered despite himself. 

“Maybe you should come inside?” Peter suggests, taking a step to the side.

“Is that a good idea?” Wade asks and Peter feels his heart crack. “I mean,” he adds quickly, “I wouldn’t want to bother you or anything.” 

“Come in, Wade,” Peter says firmly, shaking his head in exasperation and stepping fully to the side so Wade has a clear path in. 

Wade moves inside without a word, head down. He stops a few steps past the door and Peter has a horrifying moment where he remembers the state of his apartment. He rushes past Wade, bumping into him on the way by (Wade takes up a lot of space, okay??) and hastily attempts to put the space into some sort of order. At least a less embarrassing order. He kicks his dirty clothes underneath his bed, needing to hide his dirty underwear first, his cheeks burning; then he runs around the room, collecting the absurd amount of dirty dishes he has stashed around the space, including his half-full bowl of Lucky Charms, and leaves everything in the sink; lastly, he attacks his kitchen table, slamming textbooks shut and piling loose paper on top of notebooks in some sort of order. The space isn’t clean by any stretch of the imagination (there’s food on the floor and some of Peter's socks are still strewn around) but it’ll have to do. “I’m sorry,” Peter says, his blush deepening, “I wasn’t expecting company.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” Wade waves him off. “I dropped by uninvited.” He’s still in the same spot he was earlier, standing stiffly at attention. 

Peter ducks his head and shuffles past Wade, more careful this time so he doesn’t bump into Wade again, and shuts and locks the door. “Well, come on in,” he says, leading the way to the kitchen. He looks around awkwardly once he’s by his table, the haphazard pile of schoolwork on top of it. What do people do with guests? “You want something to drink?” he asks, spotting his fridge and rushing to it so he can  hide inside it see what he has to offer. “I have… milk,” he says, head-deep in the fridge. “And… uh… tap water.” He cringes. Why is he such a mess? He looks over the counter and spots the coffee maker Tony made him for his eighteenth birthday. How could he forget? He uses that thing more than his stove! “Oh! I can make coffee!” He scrambles to it and starts fumbling with coffee filters, but they fall out all over the counter, making more of a mess. Peter’s ears are burning. “It’ll only take a minute–” 

“It’s okay,” Wade thankfully cuts him off. Peter turns around, leaning back against the counter, filters crushed in his hands. Wade is sitting at his kitchen table stiffly, looking much too big for it, even hunching his shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll be staying that long.” 

“Oh…” Peter doesn’t sound  _ or _ feel disappointed. Nope. No way. He collects himself, swallowing his nervousness and forces himself to sit across from Wade. At first, he puts his hands on the table, a poor attempt to prove that he’s relaxed, but he realizes that he’s still crumpling the coffee filters in hand and quickly moves them to his lap, since his hands feel stuck. 

It’s so much harder to talk to Wade without his mask on. Not Wade’s mask– _ Peter’s  _ mask. With his mask on, he can hide all the embarrassing blushing he’s doing and Wade won’t be able to tell that Peter is staring at him. Over the past couple of weeks, it’s been easy to fall back into the comfortable camaraderie he feels with Wade,  _ behind _ the mask. It was easy! So easy! It’s not like Peter, as Spider-Man, gets distracted by Wade’s arms more than normal, or finds sneaky ways to feel them around him while they’re in the field. No,  _ you’re  _ delusional. And he definitely  _ never _ thinks about Wade’s eyes when they’re on patrol, or right now for that fact, or how  _ warm _ that hoodie has to be because it’s so  _ big _ –No. Not thinking about that at all. “So, Peter clears his throat, “what brings you by?” He finishes his question with a smile that feels alien on his face, like it’s a poor substitute for his actual mask. 

“I came to apologize,” Wade says, like it’s easy for him to say it, even if he says it in one breath and his shoulders still look uncomfortably tense. 

Peter blinks at him and glances at the front door. “Uh… you already did… at the door…” 

“That was for dropping by uninvited,” Wade explains quickly. “Also… for finding your address.” 

Peter frowns. “Didn’t JARVIS give you the address?” 

Wade shakes his head, putting his hands into his lap and looking at them. “He gave me your number and I may have used my merc ways to find your place… and saying that out loud, I realize how stalkery that sounds. I should’ve just called–” 

“What did you want to say?” Peter cuts in, unsure how he feels about Wade tracking him down like that. Could he do that for the Spidey-phone? 

Wade’s shoulders hunch up. “Right.” He plays with the sleeves of his hoodie, head down. Peter waits. Wade seems to collect himself, forcing his hands onto the table, palms flat against the surface. Peter realizes that Wade isn’t wearing gloves and he’s grateful that Wade isn’t looking up at him because his face immediately goes red. He remembers  _ very clearly _ how those hands felt running over every inch– “I was talking to a friend,” Wade says carefully, head still down, but his voice bringing Peter back from where his thoughts were taking him. “And… well.. I feel pretty bad about accidentally telling your dad about us and my friend told me I should apologize.” 

Peter is holding his breath. Is this ‘friend’ Spider-Man? Wade continues, “I mean, he’s totally right. I wasn’t going to apologize, not because I wasn’t sorry, but because I was sure you wouldn’t want to see my face after what I did, so I was just gonna let bygones be bygones, but that’s not for me to decide alone, especially because  _ you _ were the one who was hurt. So… I should’ve called or texted, but the more I thought about it, the more impersonal that felt and I decided face-to-face would be the most respectful option because I really do feel bad, Peter and you don’t deserve any of that. So…” Wade looks up, looking directly into Peter’s eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Peter stares at Wade. Despite the eye contact, Wade looks so  _ small _ . Peter isn’t sure that Wade breathed until he said sorry. Wade breaks eye contact first, looking down at his hands, his fingers picking at some of the scars around his nails. Peter can understand how the depth of his apology would’ve been lost in a more impersonal medium. Still weird, tracking him down, but… it’s not unexpected. “Uh… okay?” 

Wade's eyes snap up, wide and full of disbelief. “That’s it?” 

Peter is just as surprised by his easy acceptance of Wade’s apology. Not that he would hold out on accepting the sincere apology, but it feels too simple for how much thought and effort it took Wade to get here. Peter shrugs, again surprised by his action. “I don’t know what to say, Wade,” he admits. “It’s a little weird that you tracked me down, but I’m trying to process that. Also JARVIS helping you? That’s…” Peter rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to finish that. He has no idea how to feel about JARVIS essentially helping him with Wade. “But like, telling my pops? I appreciate the apology, Wade, but I’m not upset.” Wade’s mouth falls open. “I’m not upset anymore,” he corrects honestly. 

“How?” Wade balks. “People  _ know _ , and not just any people, your  _ parents _ . They know you done the do with, well, me!” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times and Peter finds himself amused, despite everything. Wade looks at a loss for words. A rare occurrence. “How can you not be upset about that?” 

Peter shrugs. “The most upset I was was because my dad decided to talk about it with me in front of one of my friends and now my friend won’t let me live it down,” he grumbles. “He probably never will, but it’s all in good fun.” He shrugs again. “It was one night and after talking to my pops about it, it sounds like you really didn’t know who I was, so it was just a case of bad luck.” Peter isn’t lying about that either. He did ask for some clarification from Steve and it seems like his pops’ old-fashioned sensibilities made it sound worse than it was, then Tony of course made it a million times worse. And bad luck seems to follow Peter everywhere, so he’s not that surprised that it turned out that way. 

Wade, meanwhile, is staring at Peter, giving him his best impression of a fish. Peter leans away from him, frowning. “What do you want to hear from me?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” Wade admits, scratching his face, wide eyes still locked on Peter. “Not  _ this _ . Maybe some yelling, some name calling, something thrown at my head, like a punch–” Peter’s heart breaks for Wade. Do people really treat Wade like that? “–but not this.” 

“Well,” Peter says, trying to keep himself composed and clearing his throat, “Wade… believe it or not, I had a good time that night.” He can’t look at Wade when he admits that, or the next part. “And… I have been sharing details with my friends–” his face is on fire– “so I’m not a hypocrite.” He finally releases the crumpled coffee filters and they fall to the ground. With free hands, he wraps his arms around himself, eyes still downcast. “And after thinking about it… it wasn’t as big of a deal as my dad was making it out to be.” Peter shrugs. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.” 

“And your own mistakes,” Wade adds in a whisper. Peter’s sure if his hearing wasn’t enhanced, he wouldn’t have heard him. 

His eyes snap up and Wade’s eyes are downcast and there’s a dejected slump to his shoulders. “Do you think what we did was a mistake?” Peter asks without thinking, throat tight, like he might be terrified that Wade will say yes. 

“No!” Wade says quickly, eyes going wide. 

Peter is quickly reassured, shoulders loosening. Wade opens his mouth, but Peter speaks first. “I don’t think it was a mistake either,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument or doubt. Wade stares at him, something soft swimming in his eyes. Peter reaches over the table, putting a gentle hand on Wade’s arm. He can feel the muscle twitch, but Wade doesn’t pull away. Peter smiles sweetly.  _ “I _ had a  _ lot _ of fun.” He pauses, watching Wade gulp. “Did you?”

Wade nods fervently. “Yes, yes I did.” 

Heat flashes through Peter’s body. He can echo Wade’s enthusiasm and he can admit  _ (only _ to himself and reluctantly) that his lonely nights have starred a very specific person. It’s a little disappointing that his homemade toy doesn’t feel as good as it used to and there’s no way for him to sneakily print another one, not with Tony  _ and _ Steve  _ and _ JARVIS  _ and  _ Bruce breathing down his neck in the lab. Nothing he worked on in the labs was for his eyes only. Now that he has time and privacy, he’s had more free time to play, but it’s not the same. Not after having the real thing. 

Peter bits his lip and considers his options, not really believing that he’s considering  _ options _ . The first option is to, obviously, part with Wade as unlikely friends and never speak to him again. Well… as Peter. But as soon as the thought comes, Peter discards the idea. It should concern him how easily he dismisses cutting things off with Wade, but all he can think about is his last trip to the grocery store. He went for the mustard (spoiler alert: he forgot again) and he had somehow ended up in the pharmaceutical section, basket full of Lucky Charms, granola bars (where did those go again?), and a pack of gummy bears. Peter ended up staring at some of their lube selection. The different colored tag caught his eye, the red indicating a sale, and he had been running low since his libido took it as a personal challenge to wear out his toy. So he got two new bottles, hiding them under a bag of chips that didn’t make it past the night and going through checkout without making eye contact with the cashier. True to his luck, all the self checkouts were turned off, so he had to talk to a person. 

But that’s not what’s important about his voyage to the grocery store. What’s important is the fact that those two bottles, completely fresh, seals still intact, are stored in his nightstand (one piece of furniture he was able to buy post move-in, but it was from a classmate for twenty bucks. Sometimes the drawer sticks). He worries his lip, eyeing the nightstand. Is he really considering this? For all his bad luck, everything seems to be lining up nicely. 

He clears his throat, locking eyes with Wade, feeling bold. Wade goes tense, like he can read Peter’s thoughts. “You know,” Peter says slowly, caressing Wade’s arm. Wade tenses even further. Peter thinks of those things that pop suddenly and he has a mental picture of Wade shooting up and through the ceiling. Peter tries not to laugh. “We  _ both _ had fun last time and I might have some lube just… hanging around.” Wade sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. Peter runs a finger up Wade’s arm, leaning over the table. “And I’m here, and you’re here, and I think we could find… something… fun to do.” What is he doing? But just the thought has Peter squirming in his seat. 

Wade exhales heavily, gulping down another large breath quickly, like he might’ve stopped breathing for a bit. “You… you want to have sex again?” Wade asks, sounding dazed. “With  _ me!?”  _

Peter shies away a bit, a little embarrassed to be asked so bluntly, but that’s a part of Wade that Peter really likes: the part that doesn’t want to misinterpret anything. Doesn’t make being asked so plainly any less terrifying. “Yeah,” Peter says. “I mean, if you want to.” 

“Do  _ you _ want to?” Wade asks. 

Peter’s almost offended at how incredulous Wade sounds. He frowns at Wade. “I’m pretty sure I was the one who suggested it.” 

If Wade’s eyes get any wider, they’re going to fall out of his head. “Oh… so I wasn’t hallucinating,” he mumbles. 

Peter waits quietly, giving Wade time to process his request. Yet he continues to only look shell-shocked. Peter purses his lips and counts to thirty once, twice, then three times. He doesn’t think Wade is blinking. “So?” Peter prods after too much silence. Wade Wilson is in his place. There’s no way they should be quiet. 

Wade jumps like he didn’t realize he was still here. “So?” he repeats, sounding confused.

Peter exhales in fond exasperation. “You wanna have sex again?” he asks, throwing his thumb over his shoulder like his bed is behind him and not Wade. The bed isn’t clean, but it’s not gross. And the state of his bed won’t matter if Wade says yes. If Wade says yes, his sheets could be a write-off (one can only hope) and then he won’t be able to put off buying new linens for himself. 

Wade nods, but makes no effort to move. 

Peter sits there for a few uncomfortable moments, not wanting to make the first move, but the longer they sit, the more Peter realizes he’ll have to. He stands and starts walking towards his bed, very aware that Wade is watching him. When he’s a few steps away from his bed, he spins and backs up until his knees hit the bed. He doesn’t sit though. Instead, he smirks, loving the way that Wade is twisted in his chair so he can keep his eyes on Peter. “So,” Peter says coyly, playing with the hem of his (oh God, it’s really dirty!!) shirt, loving the way Wade’s eyes flicker to the movement, “you said yes, but you’re not making a move.” He pouts playfully, lifting his shirt and letting it fall. 

“I’m still not entirely convinced I’m not hallucinating,” Wade admits, sounding like his throat might be dry.

Peter remembers their first night, how awkward he felt until Wade touched him. Wade isn’t touching him this time, but his eyes feel heavy on Peter’s skin, caressing and teasing him. Peter is intoxicated. He hums and leans back, stretching his arms up, making sure his shirt rides up. “What are the odds I’m a hallucination?” Peter asks, like he’s asking about the weather.

“Forty-seven percent,” Wade responds quickly.

Peter chuckles. “That’s not even a passing grade.” He starts inching his shirt up. “Anything I can do to convince you otherwise?” 

Wade isn’t looking at his face anymore. “I have no idea.” He sounds distracted.

Peter rips his shirt off and chucks it at Wade, hitting him between the eyes. Wade doesn’t flinch and Peter laughs. The shirt falls to the ground harmlessly. Peter looks down at himself, running hands down his chest. “I was  _ covered _ with marks, Wade,” Peter almost moans. He falls back and lies down on the bed, stretched out like a cat, head turned so he’s still looking at Wade. Wade’s mouth has fallen open again. “The way I see it,” Peter says, arching his back and letting his eyes flutter closed, “is that if this  _ is _ a hallucination, you get to have sex with me, but if it’s not–” he arches again– “you get to have sex with me.” He relaxes on the bed, eyes half-lidded and looking at Wade. “I don’t see a downside.” 

Wade blinks a few times, mouth snapping shut. “You’re fucking right.” 

Wade stands quickly, the chair almost falling over in his haste, and takes the few long strides across the room until he’s standing beside Peter’s bed. He’s staring down at Peter, but it looks like he’s frozen in place. 

Peter smirks, rolling to his knees so he can reach Wade. Although Wade is still taller than him. Peter whimpers. Has Wade always been so  _ big? _ He laces his fingers behind Wade’s neck and pulls him down, connecting their lips. Peter moans at the contact. Why is he doing this again? 

Wade’s scarred hands start at his hips, rubbing up and over his naked chest, playing with his nipples. Peter moans into Wade’s mouth. Right.  _ That’s _ why he’s doing this. He tries to arch into Wade’s touch, but the bed is too soft and he easily loses his balance, falling into Wade’s chest. Their lips break apart, but Wade moves to Peter’s neck without hesitation, teeth and tongue teasing his skin. Peter lets his head fall to the side, giving Wade more room to work. “Are you going to let me undress you this time?” Peter asks breathily, very aware that Wade is far too clothed.

Wade tenses, but relaxes after a second. “Sure, Baby Boy, anything you want,” Wade whispers into Peter’s neck. 

Peter shivers. “Even if I want to ride you again?” He only realizes he’s said it  _ after _ he hears it out loud. Where in the nine realms did  _ that _ come from?! Wade sways a bit, like his knees gave out for a second. “Did your knee–?”

“Yes, they did,” Wade laughs. He bites Peter’s shoulder playfully, making Peter moan. “You gotta stop being surprised at that happening because I’m sure it’ll happen  _ all the time.” _

Peter laughs, delighted. “Good to know,” he mutters, turning his attention to Wade’s hoodie. “Now, let’s get this off you so we can get horizontal.” He pushes the hood off Wade’s head, exposing his face fully. He looks uncomfortable at being exposed, but Peter kisses him before that look is there too long. The scars  _ really _ don’t bother him. In fact, Peter would argue that they’re an asset. At least in this specific scenario. He moves to the zipper of the hoodie, pushing it down and off Wade’s shoulders while he nips at his jawline… only to reveal a black long-sleeve shirt underneath. 

Peter pulls back and glares at the fabric. It stretches nicely over Wade’s chest and biceps, but it’s  _ in the way! _ “You don’t like my style?” Wade asks and (purposely, Peter swears) flexes his arms. 

“Not when I prefer you naked,” Peter shoots back, lifting the hem of Wade’s shirt. “Off,” he orders, pouting. 

Wade chuckles and does so, getting caught in the sleeves for only a second. When he’s free, he looks down at Peter with mirth in his eyes. “Where did that cute, rambling virgin go from last time?” 

Peter hums, running his hands over Wade’s chest, enjoying the fact that he can do this again. “I think last time, we both made sure that virginity was long gone–” 

“Amen,” Wade intones, leaning down and kissing Peter’s jaw.

Peter snorts, tilting his head. “–and are you saying I’m not cute anymore?” he asks, pouting. Wade pulls back and Peter puts extra power into his pout, jutting out his bottom lip and giving Wade wide eyes. Wade sucks in a breath. “Cause I don’t think I’ve changed that much, Mr. Deadpool.” 

Wade groans. “You’re playing with fire with the ‘Mr.’ stuff, Baby Boy.” Peter shivers at the rumble in Wade’s voice. It promises all kinds of dirty things. Maybe he won’t poke this bear. This time. 

Peter smiles, sharp and dirty. “Fine.” He fingers at Wade’s pants. “Get these off.” 

“Yes,  _ sir,” _ Wade salutes and gets to work, taking a step back and attacking the button and zip of his pants, pushing them down. 

Peter snorts. “Sir?” 

Wade stands, completely naked and oh so hard (as Wade would say: Amen). Peter’s mouth goes dry at the sight of it. “Not a fan?” Wade asks. 

“Not sure,” Peter responds absently, forgetting what they were talking about. 

Wade lifts Peter’s chin, breaking Peter’s intense eye contact with Wade’s penis. Peter’s face flares. “Next time, then,” Wade whispers. 

Peter nods. “Next time,” he agrees, stomach flipping at the promise of another time. Wait. Was’t this a one time–

His thoughts cut off when Wade kisses him again. Peter melts into it, hips twitching when Wade deftly undoes his pants and pushes them down along with Peter’s underwear. He falls back easily when Wade pushes him onto his back, tearing his pants off the rest of the way, leaving them both naked. 

One more night won’t hurt…

….right?

* * *

Peter will freely admit (to himself, of course)that  _ that _ was the most fun way to kill time between school and patrol. He’s still a little sore, but he showered and now he’s swinging through the streets, feeling like a brand new spider. He feels like he could fly without his webbing. Peter whoops and releases his web, flying upwards and backflipping, almost comforted by the disorienting effect of sky turning to ground.

He does it twice and shoots off another web, coming out of his flip perfectly, keeping his momentum and swinging up again. Noise comes from him, unbidden, somewhere between delight and euphoria. He does a couple more tricks before coming to a sudden stop at the ledge of a building, crouched and looking over his city. 

His thighs burn in this position. It’s a tolerable burn (or, more accurately, a very nice reminder). He inhales deeply and listens, but nothing sounds out of place. It’s still early, but he was at risk of passing out in Wade’s arms if he didn’t get up and do something. The merc allowed himself to be graciously shuffled out the front door, but only after he gave Peter a mind-melting kiss. He blushes at the memory and  _ refuses _ to touch his still swollen lips, even through the mask.

He settles onto his butt, feet kicking out over the edge, and pulls out his phone. Might as well check Twitter, right? Although when he unlocks his phone, the familiar blank home screen with a calling app, texting app, and Twitter app, it opens to the new contact he made. The one that he made on his  _ personal _ phone. Beyond the fact that he grabbed the wrong phone, he’s staring at the contact information for one Wade Wilson. It’s not good that he  _ grabbed the wrong phone _ , but there’s a cold, panicky realization he  _ has Wade Wilson’s phone number on his PERSONAL PHONE. _ Why is this here again?

Well, that’s a dumb question. He remembers exactly why Wade offered his number. Peter was still high off their admittedly  _ hot _ hookup and Wade suggested that he be put on Peter’s speed dial, “just in case,” you know? With a wink-wink. At the time, it was a wonderful idea and then Wade kissed him and it gets a little fuzzy after that.

Now that high is  _ totally _ gone. Peter  _ knows _ he won’t be using that number. He won’t  _ need _ it. What happened was a two-time deal. There isn’t going to be any more times. Wade Wilson is definitely out of his system. For sure. Wade dropping by today was a fluke. It won’t happen again. Never. 

He goes through the process to delete the contact, certain of his actions until the prompt that pops up to confirm his actions. Does he want to do this? He shakes his head. Of course he does! What a silly question! He goes to press the ‘yes,’ not hesitating in the slightest, when he hears a loud, “Spidey!” 

Peter jumps, nearly dropping his phone. He turns and sees Deadpool practically bouncing across the rooftop. Peter feels himself smiling as he locks his phone and tucks it away. “‘Pool!” he responds in kind, leaning back on his hands. 

Wade skips over to Peter and sits next to him, humming. Even through the mask, Peter can tell that Wade is  _ glowing. _ “You’re in a good mood,” Peter chuckles, knocking his shoulder against Wade’s. 

“I am, Spidey, I really am,” Wade says, swinging his feet happily, learning back on his hands as well. Peter can see Wade has a huge smile on his face, the leather of his mask distorted.

“You gonna share with the class?” Peter asks, not sure  _ why _ he’s asking. He has a pretty good guess as to why Wade is glowing. It’s probably the same reason Peter is flipping through the air. 

Wade hums. “I’m not sure if I should. Last time I shared with the class, I got my ass kicked by Captain America.” 

Peter laughs. “So you saw Peter again?” Why is he doing this? 

Wade scratches his nose and laughs awkwardly. “I guess that wasn’t very subtle, huh?” Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, that’s all you’re going to get from me.” 

Peter snorts. “It’s not like I’m about to tell Captain America.” Seriously…  _ why _ is he doing this?

“What? You wanna live vicariously through me?” Wade teases. Peter bites his lip, scared of what else will come out of his mouth if he lets it. “I’d think with your butt, you’d have no problems finding someone.” Wade laughs and Peter cna feel himself blushing  _ again.  _ What can he say? “Anyway,” Wade says, lying on his back, hands behind his head. “I wanted to thank you.” 

“Thank me?” Peter repeats. 

Wade shrugs easily. “For your advice.” 

“Advice?” he questions, trying to remember any advice he’s given Wade. He also feels stupid, only able to repeat Wade’s words back to him. Wade doesn’t seem to think Peter is acting weird though. 

“Yeah, to apologize to Peter.” Peter sucks in a breath. He  _ did _ tell Wade to do that, didn’t he? “It turned out  _ much better _ than I anticipated and he said he was fine… I feel a lot better knowing.” Wade sighs happily. 

“Well, I’m glad it worked out,” Peter says neutrally, an odd feeling in his chest seeing Wade so happy. It’s good that he’s happy, right? Peter doesn’t want to think about it, so he stands, brushing the dirt off the back of his legs with his hands. “What do you say to some patrolling together?” he asks, offering a hand to Wade, feeling an overwhelming need to change the subject. 

Wade takes his hand and pops up like a monkey from a box, whooping loudly. He wraps a strong arm around Peter’s shoulders, holding him close. “And my night keeps on getting better!” Wade cheers. “Lead the way, Spidey!” 

And Peter does, pushing feelings he can’t name to the furthest parts of his mind. They probably don’t matter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter, Peter, Peter.... Peter....
> 
> Here's my [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> Comments and kudos, please!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepover!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Some more plot! <3
> 
> I have the MJs, and yes, I have both of them, Michelle and Mary. I mean, why choose? 
> 
> but it's tuesday!!! here we go!
> 
> PS I have a text conversation in here, hopefully it's readable! Any questions feel free to ask <3

Peter is doing great. Great! After those first few weeks of isolation, Peter picked up his socks (literally and figuratively) and pulled his life into some semblance of order. He went to Bed & Bath and got two clothes hampers, one for dirty clothes, one for clean (because he realized he has a nasty habit of not putting his clothes away after they’re clean, so they end up on the floor), four bath towels, with a matching facecloth, some kitchen towels (less paper towel getting used now), a rug for his bathroom, and a Sodastream? He’s not sure why he got it, but he did. Now it sits next to his coffee maker and gets used about as much, the syrups for it stuffed into the cupboard next to his coffee. He also picked up a new shower curtain and the liner thing. His place is really coming together! 

He still needs bookshelves, but he’ll do that another day. Tonight, he’s having Ned and MJ over for movies. If he’s honest, he’s a little nervous about having company. The only other people who come over are his dads… or Wade. His dads have only visited once and Tony did his best not to show his distaste for the place, but did drop a couple of hints to have Peter move back home. Steve was happy though, complimenting everything Peter has done to the space to make it more livable and commenting on how tidy he’s kept it. They visited after Wade first dropped by and Peter didn’t want to be caught unawares again, so he’s really put in effort to keep the place presentable. Especially since Wade has come over again a few times since then. It hasn’t been much! And Peter mostly calls Wade when there’s too many hours between homework and patrol. It’s nothing serious and it’s only been a handful of times. Definitely not serious in any way. 

But because he’s only had his dads, or Wade, over, Peter doesn’t know what to expect from his friends. It’s easy to know what he’s expected to do with his dads… or Wade, but Peter is feeling nervous. He’s spent most of the afternoon stress cleaning his place to make sure that it isn’t a disaster, even though the place was already clean. Although he’s sure Ned wouldn’t mind and… MJ probably wouldn’t either, but she for sure would never let him live it down. 

While he’s excited to finally have his friends over, there’s a small pang of longing inside him. He loves Ned and MJ, as much as one can for only knowing them a little over a year, but they’re his university friends. Great people, a ton of fun, but Peter misses his childhood friend, MJ (or as Ned’s MJ says: “OG-MJ”) and he wishes that she could be here, too. It was a coincidence of nicknames, honestly, since Peter met Ned first, then he met MJ through him, but both MJ’s immediately accused Peter of trying to replace the old MJ. All in jest, of course: Mary Jane Watson (the OG) is completely different from Michelle Jones (Ned’s MJ). Mary Jane moved to DC to pursue a journalism degree, something that she could’ve done in New York easily, but she, in her own words, “needs to keep those politicians on their toes.” Peter has no doubt she’s doing exactly that. Michelle, on the other hand, is just as terrifying but is a highly talented artist working towards a fine arts degree that Peter doesn’t exactly understand and with whom Steve immediately bonded with when they were introduced. She’s not a woman of many words, but Peter always knows where he stands with her. But, now that he thinks about it, Peter’s glad that the MJ's haven’t officially met. He’s not sure if they’ve talked before, but they love to give Peter a hard time in the same way. He’s also not sure the world would survive if they decided to team up. 

There’s a knock on the door and Peter rushes to open it, forgetting to use the peephole in his excitement. Ned and MJ are standing in the hall, Ned smiling and jittery with excitement and MJ with a frown and hair covering part of her face. She’s already dressed for staying in: a large hoodie, sweat pants, and slippers. Ned is wearing street clothes, but has a backpack on his shoulder that probably contains more comfortable clothes. MJ has a backpack as well, but Peter doubts she has other clothes to wear. 

“Hey guys,” Peter greets, stepping aside. MJ doesn’t need more of an invitation, stepping past Peter with a small grunt of acknowledgement. Ned, on the other hand, steps up to Peter and wraps him in a bone-crushing hug. Or, it would be if Ned was stronger than the average dude. 

“Hey Peter!” Ned says happily, dropping Peter as quickly as he hugged him and entering the apartment with bright eyes. He scans over the entire place with excitement. “I can’t believe you live alone! That’s so cool!’”

“I expected it to be bigger,” MJ says casually, spread out over his couch, looking like she’s made herself at home. Her backpack is on the floor and her feet are kicked over the back of the couch. 

“It’s just me here, “ Peter laughs, shutting and locking the door. “I don’t need more space.” She scoffs at him, but Peter knows she’s teasing him. 

Ned is still looking around. “I  _ can’t believe _ you live alone!” he gushes. “It has to be nicer than living in the dorms!” Peter understands Ned’s lament. He’s still living on campus in a dorm and Peter has been listening to tales of his dorm-mate from hell. Or at least that’s what Ned says. There’s no way that the dorm mate stole Ned’s bed sheets. Who does that? 

“Or with a roommate,” MJ adds. She’s staying in a place off-campus and has two roommates. Also artists, she tells him, and their place is hardly habitable, but a painter’s paradise, apparently. MJ doesn’t really paint though, so Peter has no idea how she would know it’s a paradise. 

Peter shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never done either.” 

MJ glares at him. “First years are  _ required _ to live on campus, Stark.” 

Peter chuckles. MJ will choose a last name on a whim when she wants to berate him. It’s only problematic if she uses all three of them. “I had a place, but the Tower was a train ride away.” She scoffs at him again. 

“How is it?” Ned asks, genuinely curious. Peter’s confused though. “Living alone,” he prompts when an answer isn’t immediate. “How is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Peter says awkwardly, looking around his place. “It’s nice? I make my own rules and no one steals my food.” 

“Speaking of…” MJ pipes up.

Peter smiles, shaking his head. “Pizza or Chinese?” 

“Both,” Ned and MJ say at the same time. Peter sighs, but doesn’t argue. It’s not like any leftovers will go bad with Peter and his metabolism around. 

* * *

A ridiculous amount of food and two movies later, all three friends are sprawled around Peter’s tiny living space. Ned has changed into pajamas and so has Peter. Ned’s are a classic gray, blue, and white plaid on his pants with a plain white shirt. Peter’s are… some fleece Hello Kitty pajamas. He doesn’t care about the pattern on the pants, they are soft and warm and Peter isn’t afraid to wear pink. And they are. Bright pink that is, with happy Hello Kitty heads and little hearts. The shirt is plain, mostly, except for the cat mascot right in the center of his chest. It’s a set! And it’s a pair he bought post-move-in. MJ nearly exploded from laughing so hard the first time she saw them. Peter knows that her laughter wasn’t  _ at  _ him, she just never expected it. Ned asked Peter when he got them after he felt how soft they were. Peter won’t be surprised if Ned decides he wants a pair for himself. And Peter was right about MJ’s bag. Instead of clothes, it was packed with some of her art supplies and a ridiculous amount of junk food. Ned had some squirreled away, too and everyone heartily dug in. 

The clean state of Peter’s apartment is now a fond memory under open chip bags, spilled gummy bears, empty soda cans (they drank all those before getting into Peter’s Sodastream, which he has never been so grateful to have bought), takeout containers, full and empty, pizza boxes in the same state, and chopsticks abandoned in frustration. Peter’s okay with the mess though, happy for the company of his friends. Ned and Peter talk too much throughout the movies and MJ is doodling in her sketchbook, half paying attention to them. She’s taken over the whole couch, leaving Peter and Ned with the floor. They have throw pillows and stolen blankets to make the floor more comfortable. Peter has somehow ended up with his feet on the couch and is watching the TV upside down, a pillow under his neck so he can lean it back. “You wanna watch another?” Peter asks, turning his attention to Ned, but also asking MJ. She may not be actively watching like they are, but her opinion matters, too. Ned is leaning back against the couch, close to MJ. 

“Yeah!” Ned cheers. “Let’s watch something funny!” 

“MJ?” Peter asks.

“Sure,” she shrugs, eyes still on her sketchbook. 

“You pick, Ned,” Peter says. “I don’t want to move.” 

Ned doesn’t argue, crawling over to the stack of movies they recovered from the box they were stored in and knocking junk out of the way as he does so. Peter chuckles, thinking about having to clean up this mess. 

Something nudges his foot and Peter looks up. MJ is looking at him now, sketchbook face down in her lap. “You having fun?” she asks. 

Peter frowns. “Of course. Why? Are you bored?” 

MJ smirks. “You two  _ are _ boring.” Peter scoffs, mock offended. “No, I mean you’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and never invited us over even once.” 

Peter’s confused. “Well… I just took a while to settle in,” he says carefully. “And it’s not like I was avoiding you guys. I saw you on campus all the time.” 

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but usually you hang out with Ned once a week to do something appropriately dorky.” It’s a joke, but the way that she’s looking at him makes Peter feel like he’s under interrogation and he can feel his guard going up. “You like people, Peter. You’re not a party animal, but it’s just you here, alone… don’t you get lonely being here by yourself?” 

Peter’s eyes go wide and he can feel himself starting to blush. He does get lonely without people, but Peter hasn’t really been  _ alone _ here. “You got that movie picked, Ned?” he asks, forcing himself to look away from MJ, like she could get answers to her questions by looking at him. Sadly, Ned is staring at him, too, movie seemingly forgotten for now. 

“I think I wanna know the answer,” Ned says, smiling slightly.

“Avoiding the question, Parker?” MJ teases. “Have you  _ not _ been lonely?” She sounds so  _ innocent _ and Peter knows it’s a ruse.

“No,” Peter admits. “Not lonely.” He risks looking at her again, and regrets it. 

MJ’s smile is sharp. Peter knows exactly where this is going, but he hopes that he’s wrong. He just knows he’s not wrong though. “Does Deadpool know where you live, Peter?” she aks, smirking.

Peter groans, covering his face with his hands. Ned gasps excitedly. “Deadpool?!”

“No,” Peter says, firm. “Deadpool is off-limits.” 

MJ kicks him and he makes a sound of protest. It didn’t hurt, but it’s the principle of the matter. “Don’t be a party pooper.” 

“I thought I was boring,” Peter mutters, rolling over to sit up. 

MJ rolls her eyes. “Don’t pout. If you’ve been holing up by yourself, as your friends, we worry about you.” 

It’s a trap. He knows it is, but he’s definitely falling for it. He doesn’t want his friends to worry about him. Peter huffs and crosses his arms. He can understand that and can recognize that behavior would be concerning, but he knows they just want to gossip. “Fine,” he pouts. “Deadpool knows where I live.” 

Ned squeals and Peter flinches. “Do your dads know?” he asks.

“No!” Peter says quickly. “No, they _do_ _not_ know and they _will not_ know.” 

MJ chuckles. “I think we all know how you’ve been spending your free time.” Peter’s face turns bright red. She laughs at him. “Still good?” 

Peter shrinks back a bit. “Yes,” he admits quietly.

Ned cheers. “Then, I’m honored you could take time out of your busy schedule for us,” MJ jokes. Peter groans, hiding his face again. Ned laughs loudly.

Then Ned gasps excitedly. “We should invite him!” he suggests, eyes bright. 

“No!” Peter and MJ say at the same time. Peter is shocked that MJ sounds as serious as he does. He thought that she would want to bring him over to grill him for information. 

“You don’t invite a  _ booty call _ over when you only have one room,” MJ states, throwing something at Ned’s head. It looks like an empty wrapper. Peter’s mortified to hear her reason. “That’s not a show I want to watch.” 

Ned pouts. “I want to meet Deadpool.” 

“For the same reason that  _ Peter _ wanted to meet him?” she asks, giving him a mischievous look. Peter’s mouth drops open. 

“What?! No!” Ned denies, cheeks turning pink. “I think it would just be cool to meet him!” 

“So how do you get him over here?” MJ asks, starting to doodle again. “Is it like the Bat-signal or something?” 

Peter blushes. “Everyone has a cell phone, MJ,” he shoots at her, never mind the fact that Wade would  _ love _ that idea. 

“And Iron Dad hasn’t figured it out yet?” she asks skeptically. 

“It’s not like his contact name is ‘This is the Guy I Have Sex With.’” Peter pauses. “And Dad doesn’t go through my phone.” 

“So you have it as ‘Deadpool’?” Ned asks.

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “It’s just ‘Wade.’”

“Hmmm,” MJ says, eyes focused on her sketchbook, but her pencil isn’t moving. “Wade Wilson?” 

Peter  _ knows _ Wade’s identity isn’t a secret and easy enough to find if one is motivated enough, but the  _ way _ she says it has Peter uneasy. “What are you looking at MJ?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says then holds up a phone with two fingers, “just this phone I found.” Peter makes a noise and launches himself at her, snatching the phone from her hand. He checks it and frowns.

“This isn’t my phone,” he says, confused. The screen is open to, of all things, Deadpool’s wiki page. Last time Peter checked, Wade’s name wasn’t on Deadpool’s wiki page, but it’s there now. “Why are you looking at this?” 

MJ snatches the phone back. “Need to make sure he’s not a creep.” 

“You know those pages are fake,” Peter states. 

_ “You _ know that’s academic elitism,” she responds evenly, scrolling through her phone.

“Wait,” Ned says, looking confused. He’s frowning at Peter. “I thought you said that being with Wade was a one-time deal.” 

Peter freezes. MJ is looking at him now.  _ “Did you?” _ she asks pointedly. Did Ned really manage to keep something from MJ? 

“Uhhhh…” Peter takes the moment to find his phone and keep it out of his nosy friends’ reaches. He picks it up and holds it in both hands. They just have to look at his call history to know that it’s been more than once. 

“Dude, I’m not judging,” Ned says quickly. “How much have you seen him?” 

“What are you trying to say?” Peter asks distrustfully.

Something else hits Ned’s forehead. It looks like something more solid than a wrapper, like an eraser. “Nothing,” MJ says, like she didn’t throw something at Ned. “Now give that back and give me deets,” she tells Ned and Peter, respectively. “Not too many though. I still want to be able to steal your bed to sleep in.” 

Peter blushes. “I washed the sheets…” he mutters then settles in. He knows there’s no way to get out of this, but he prefers this line of questioning instead of whatever they were trying to get at before. He also doesn’t mind sharing these kinds of details with them. They won’t judge him. 

Yeah, they’ll give him a hard time, but Peter knows that he’s safe with them.

* * *

Later, with MJ in his bed with him, Peter stares at his phone. Ned claimed the couch and is fast asleep and MJ kept true to her word. Although she wasn’t heartless enough to make Peter sleep on the floor. His friends are both asleep, but Peter isn’t finding sleep so easily. He has too much energy, used to burning calories as Spider-Man almost every night. It doesn’t help that he’s had a ridiculous amount of sugar tonight. Yeah… he doubts he’ll be able to get much sleep, unless he can sneak away as Spider-Man, but he doubts that he can do that. 

So he’s staring at his phone. He was scrolling through Twitter, but that got boring, so he’s opening and closing apps, hoping something will catch his attention. His eyes feel crusty as he stares at his phone, but he’s  _ not tired. _ Damn his metabolism. Then he accidentally opens his call history and spots Wade’s name. It appears more times than Peter’s comfortable seeing.

Peter really shouldn’t have Wade’s full name in his phone. He doesn't think that Tony will purposely find out or snoop, but he has a nasty habit of looking over people's shoulders and Steve has done nothing to dissuade him from doing so. 

Peter goes to Wade’s contact and opens it to edit it. He erases the name completely and tries to think of something to change it to. For some reason, he thinks emojis are a good idea. He chooses the skull, a taco, a knife, and a black heart. Seems appropriate for Wade. But when he closes out of the contacts, it stands out, so he spends the next twenty minutes changing the majority of his contacts to match Wade’s. It’s mostly his friends. When he looks at the full list again, Wade’s name stands out less, since there’s a healthy mix of regular names and emojis now. 

But with that done, Peter’s bored again. He bites his lip and puts the phone against his chest, lifting his head to check on his friends. They’re both sound asleep. He’s not sure how Ned isn’t snoring with the way he’s contorted himself. But the only noise in the apartment is their steady, even breathing and Peter snuggles back into his pillow, turning the brightness down even more on his phone and opening a blank text. He types out a text and sends it before he can change his mind.

P:You up?

Peter blushes. That’s such a lame thing to say! He locks his phone and hides his face, but his phone vibrates quickly. On screen he sees he has a text from 💀🌮🗡🖤. Peter blushes again.

💀: Yes!   
—But the question is…   
—Why are you up?   
—Sleeping beauties aren’t just a thing from fairy tales bb.

Peter smiles.

P: Can’t sleep.   
💀: Want me to come over there and wear you out 😉

Peter blushes,  _ again _ , biting his lip. That sounds like an  _ excellent _ way to tire him out, yet…

P: Can’t 🙁   
—Have company   
💀: And they couldn’t wear you out properly?!   
—How rude!

Peter snorts then covers his mouth, hoping he didn’t wake anyone. MJ rolls over, but otherwise stays asleep. 

P: Not that kind of company, Pervert.   
💀: PERVERT?!   
—….you’re probably right   
P: lol   
💀: Does that mean no sexting 😦   
P: unfortunately…   
💀: CURSES!   
—So why you messaging me bb?   
—If my services aren’t required   
P: said before. Couldn’t sleep. Bored.   
💀: Am i just something to keep you entertained?!   
P: Are you complaining?

Peter’s stomach twists. That’s not true. Sure, MJ called Wade a booty call before, but it doesn’t sound right. Does he really treat Wade like a sex toy?

💀: Definitely NOT bb   
—Best gig I’ve ever had ♡

Peter’s thumbs are quick.

P: You’re not tho   
—Somrthing just for entertainment I mean   
—I mean!   
—Youre more than just a thing for sex   
💀: Peter, don’t worry   
—I know where I stand   
—You’re not offending me by pointing it out.

Peter doesn’t like that at all. He doesn’t just  _ use _ people. People all have value.

P: Play 20 questions w me   
💀: 20 questions?   
—Why?   
P: I’m bored   
💀: k….   
—Animal vegetable or mineral?   
P: lol, no ♡   
—We ask each other questions   
💀: About what?   
P: Each other   
—And you have to answer them   
💀: P sure that’s not how the rules work…   
P: please?   
—For me?   
💀: AAAAAAA!   
—I CAN FEEL THE PUPPY DOG EYES FROM HERE!!   
P: pls?   
💀: Fine   
—Can’t say no to that face   
P: What’s your favorite color?   
💀: Wait   
—-This isn’t sexy stuff?   
P: It’s to get to know you better   
💀: You want to get to knoe me better?!   
P: Yes!   
—Now answer the question   
💀: ...   
—Would it be cheesy to say the color of your eyes?

Peter drops his phone and covers his face, not expecting that answer at all. He recovers quickly, typing out a message with a smile on his face. 

P: Yes, that’s very cheesy   
—Now you ask me a question   
💀: Same one: fave color?   
P: Blue

It’s definitely  _ not _ the same shade of blue as Wade’s eyes. He’s  _ always  _ liked blue, since he was a kid. (Although he definitely didn’t have a particular shade until after he saw Wade’s eyes…)

💀: Cap America thing?   
P: I hope you’re not implying anything…   
💀: Only that one of your dads is ur hero

Peter blushes. That’s actually kind of sweet.

P: My turn   
—Who’s your closest friend?   
💀: Name’s weasel   
—Dont trust him. Named weasel for a reason.    
—Have you ever wanted to be a superhero?

Peter tenses. How is he supposed to answer that?

💀: Growing up where you did i mean   
—Iron man, cap america, other avengers

Peter lets out a breath.

P: Not a superhero exactly…   
💀: ?   
P: I don’t need to be a hero, but I want to help

Forget that he  _ is _ a hero, but he’s not in it for the fame or the glory. He wants to  _ help _ and his powers allow him to help in different ways than he could before. Even though Tony and Clint aren’t enhanced, they manage to do the job just fine.

💀: Aw. You’re already a hero   
—V captain america   
—He’d be proud   
P: would you ever stop being a mercenary?

There’s a long pause and Peter wonders if he’s gone too far. This game always gets serious really fast and can cause problems. Peter is ready to retract his question, terrified that he won’t like the answer, but Wade’s answer comes through.

💀: I think I’d like to.

Peter’s heart starts beating faster.

💀: Spidey seems to see something good in me   
—And cap, even with the ass whooping, says there’s something in me that’s good   
—Just hard to get out   
P: I wish I could help.   
💀: Don’t like me being a merc?   
P: no   
—I don’t like killing   
💀: Well, it’s been coming on a year for me

Peter resists the urge to shoot up in his bed. A year?!

P: A whole year without killing?   
💀: yeah… no one’s noticed   
—Not that that’s important   
—If Spidey taught me anything…   
—...it’s about doing more good than harm   
—And that guy gets dragged through the street… he’s the best hero I know   
P: you really like spider-man?   
💀: I do   
—I’d like to think we’re friends   
P: You probably are wade   
—You’re a likable guy   
💀: You’re only saying that because of the orgasms 😉   
—Did you hack tony’s file on me before finding me in that club?   
P: ...yes   
💀: And you still sought me out   
P: you blame me? You’re hot   
💀: yeah you’re delirious from lack of sleep.   
P: Do you have fun with me?   
💀: Yes. What a silly question   
P: ask me   
💀: What?   
P: If i have fun with you   
💀: …   
—Do you have fun with me?   
P: there aren’t words for how much fun I have with you   
—If I didn’t have friends over, I would’ve been calling you   
💀: now you can’t tease me like that bb   
—I can’t get my hands on you   
P: how about... if I can’t sleep you come over in the afternoon and “wear me out”?   
💀: That sounds doable…

Peter smiles, excited that he has plans. He’ll have to nap in the morning though. He can’t miss patrol two nights in a row. His phone vibrates again.

💀: What are you taking in university?

The smile stays on Peter’s face as he responds. It’s so easy to talk to Wade about anything.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, or that he fell asleep, until MJ kicks him and demands breakfast, even if it’s close to noon. The three of them make food and clean up their mess, laughing and chatting and MJ and Ned leave by three in the afternoon.

His apartment is mostly clean and he checks his phone. There’s an unread message from 💀🌮🗡🖤.

💀: seems like you fell asleep. Sweet dreams ♡

Peter blushes at the long thread of their conversation. He must’ve been more tired than he thought, messaging Wade like he did. That doesn’t stop Peter from sending Wade a message, asking if he still wants to come over. He gets an eggplant emoji in response and Peter takes that as a sign that Wade will be over in about twenty minutes. Enough time for a shower to freshen up. 

Last night with Wade was a fluke and everything will be back to normal when Wade gets here.

Nothing has changed, no matter how many butterflies flutter in his stomach. 

Nothing has changed. 

_ Nothing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if Peter will ever stop digging the hole that he's in...
> 
> Here's my [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> Comments and kudos, please!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just how is this relationship developing? 
> 
> But it isn't a relationship, obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god i didn't realize how short this chapter is! I hope it's worth the wait! Enjoy!

After that initial conversation, Peter finds himself texting Wade almost every day. Especially on days when they don’t see each other. Slowly, Peter learns about Wade’s life: his roommate (Blind Al), Weasel, and what he does in his off time. Peter learns that nowadays Wade either spends his time collecting information for possible jobs or waiting to go out at night to possibly meet up with Spider-Man, when he isn’t occupied by Peter obviously. 

Wade still kind of flirts with Spider-Man, but not like he used to. Peter isn’t sure how he feels about it. Any flirtation carries the heavy implication that Wade’s joking now, instead of before where there was the unspoken “this is totally a joke unless you’re into it.” Peter isn’t disappointed that his relationship with Wade as Spider-Man has changed, he’s  _ not,  _ but their banter has been significantly altered and Peter didn’t realize how much he liked it until it was gone. 

There’s also the fact that Peter is still lying to Wade, and every time Wade talks about Peter with Spider-Man, it feels like a betrayal. Wade doesn’t share anything graphic with Spider-Man, but he can only sing Peter’s praises and Peter isn’t as good as Wade thinks he is. But the whole situation is ultimately distracting, which wasn’t good when Peter decided to step in the middle of a couple of drunks (okay, they aren’t drunk, but Peter is in a mood) who were shouting loud enough to be heard on the other side of Manhattan. No, definitely not a good thing to be distracted. Especially because his spidey-sense goes off  _ one second  _ before someone’s fist connects with the side of his head. Generally that would be enough time to move so he’s at least not receiving a  _ direct _ hit, but he’s thinking about Wade and the warning doesn’t register until there’s light bursting across his vision from a fist straight to his temple. 

He cries out and stumbles away, more shocked than anything at the blow, given his usual sparring partners. Peter isn’t sure what it is, the cry of pain, or the fact that he’s not a physical barrier between them anymore, but it’s the linchpin for this confrontation. The two guys lunge at each other, grabbing shirts and hair, pulling back fists and throwing punches hard enough to bloody knuckles.

Peter watches them fight for a moment, fucking pissed, rubbing the side of his head. “Hey, hey, hey!” someone yells, sounding more pissed than Peter feels. Great: another guy to make things worse. 

Peter’s surprised to see that it’s Wade storming up to the pair, decked out fully in his Deadpool garb, and gets between them. Maybe he  _ won’t  _ make things worse. He’s able to use his bulk to knock the men away from each other and he holds them apart with straight arms, looking pretty… cool and strong, handling those men easily. Peter tries not to think about it… too much. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Wade snaps. 

After the initial relief that he doesn’t have to deal with these guys anymore, Peter frowns. What’s Wade doing here? He told Peter he was going out of town a couple of days ago and would be out of reach. What is he doing  _ here?  _ Is he avoiding Peter? 

The men start yelling over one another, gesturing wildly and pointing fingers. Peter can’t understand what they’re saying other than a few choice words, mostly curses. Wade shakes his head and grabs them both by the collars and pulls, knocking their heads together. The yelling abruptly stops and is replaced by groans. Peter winces in sympathy. Knocking skulls together hurts, even if Wade didn’t do it very hard. “Okay, let me clear up my question,” Wade grinds out, shaking them again. They weakly try to pry off his fingers as he shakes them. “What  _ the fuck _ do you think you’re doing punching my Spider-Man?” 

**_“My”_ ** _ Spider-Man? _

“It wasn’t me,” one immediately pipes up, but Wade shakes him before he can say anything else.

“Nuh-uh. I don’t wanna hear excuses,” he snaps. “What the fuck are you doing? Fighting like this? Spidey fucking saves your stupid bacon every other month taking down some big bad and your response is to  _ punch him in the fucking head?!” _ He shakes them again, making a noise of frustration, likely out of words. 

By now, a little crowd has formed, at least five cell phones recording the exchange. Peter honestly wants Wade to continue to lecture these guys–no one likes getting punched in the head after all–but shaking them probably isn’t going to help anyone. Even if it makes Peter feel a little better. 

“Deadpool,” he calls. Wade stops shaking them. He looks at Peter, still radiating anger, but Peter isn’t worried. “I think they’ve learned their lesson.” He’s trying not to laugh. Taking a step back from it all, the situation is pretty funny. 

“I don’t know if they did,” Wade says dangerously, looking at each of them in turn. “You learned your lesson?” he asks, shaking them again.

There’s a pathetic chorus of “yes” that’s met with a small ripple of giggles from the crowd. Peter has to work hard not to add his own giggles to the rest. 

“Are you?” Wade repeats. “You’re not even apologizing.” 

“W-Deadpool,” Peter chastises.

“Sorry,” the men mutter like Peter didn’t speak at all. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “What got you guys so heated anyway?” he asks 

They both stumble over an explanation at a much more reasonable volume, even if the explanation is stupid. It all boils down to stupid alpha male posturing. Someone ran into someone else and refused to apologize. Silly thing to risk an assault charge for, and he tells them just as much. They’re both young and look terrified at the idea of getting in trouble with the police, like that thought never crossed their minds. Thankfully because Spider-Man showed up, no one called the cops. Peter lectures them about responsibility and accountability and by the time he’s done (Peter has a surreal moment of realization that the men he’s lecturing are more than likely older than him), very few people are left watching. There’s still a cell phone or two recording everything. 

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” Peter says with a sigh. “I’m not going to let Deadpool decide what happens to you. The night is young and no one was really hurt, right?” 

“Spidey–” Wade says, but Peter waves him off. Sure, Peter was hit, but he’s gotten harder love taps from the Lizard. 

“It’d be a shame to cut your night short, so I”m going to give you some homework.” Peter claps his hands. “Now hold hands.” 

They blink at him. “Excuse me?” one asks. 

“You heard him,” Wade growls. They immediately clasp hands, blushing deeply and not looking at one another. The leftover crowd is barely stifling giggles. 

“Make sure you’re comfortable,” Peter says, spinning a thin layer of webbing in his hands. Even thin, there’s a fair bit of strength in the strands. He wraps it around their clasped hands quickly before the guys can register what he’s doing. Immediately the two panic and try to pull their hands apart, but the webbing won’t let them. Wade laughs at the sight, delighted.

“What the–”

“You can’t do this!” 

They’re both yelling at Peter, but not moving closer to him. Peter chuckles at their protests, waiting for them to run out of steam. They are trying to intimidate Peter, but they’re nothing compared to the imposing figure Wade presents and Peter isn’t even close to scared of Wade. They’d have to try a lot harder. 

It takes a minute, but their complaints wind down like a balloon that runs out of air. “I call this my Get-Along Web,” Peter tells them, tapping their hands. “It’ll dissolve within the hour, so you won’t be stuck together  _ all night _ , but I suggest you two make the most out of it. Buy each other a drink, talk, part ways when you’re free,” Peter shrugs. “I don’t really care, but maybe next time you’ll think twice about getting into fights because someone bumped into you.” 

After that, the few remaining in the crowd are laughing. Both men look embarrassed, but resigned. Peter pats their shoulders and nods at them. “I hope the rest of your night goes better.” He looks at Wade. “Ready to head out?” 

Wade nods and finally releases their collars, their shirts stretched out. Wade and Peter leave calmly, walking down the street without a word. 

It isn’t until a few blocks later that the silence is broken. Wade bursts out laughing, bending over and leaning on his knees, practically dry heaving with how hard he’s laughing. Peter stops and smiles, watching the merc lose control with amusement. Pedestrians politely part around them. “The Get-Along Webs!” Wade cries out between laughs. 

Peter chuckles. “Are you okay?” 

Wade shakes his head. “God, no! I’m dying!” he laughs. “That has to be the best punishment I’ve ever seen!” He takes a deep breath. “I should tell Weasel about that.” 

Peter laughs. “I don’t think it works on mercenaries, Wade. Those guys were just dumb kids.” 

Wade is somehow collecting himself. “Oh, I think mercenaries would be better. Like some sort of battle royale. It’d definitely make the death pool more interesting.” 

Peter winces. “Yeah, if you think it’s so interesting, maybe we’ll web you to Iron Man.” 

Wade gasps. “Can we?!” 

“No!” Peter laughs, not really believing that Wade wants to be webbed to Iron Man. “He’d cut off your arm to get away from you!” 

“But him being forced to be with my arm until the webs dissolve? Priceless,” Wade argues, nodding his head sagely. 

Peter rolls his eyes, snorting. Like it would be that easy. He continues walking first, Wade falling into step next to him. “So what are you doing here?” 

“Where? New York?” Wade asks, looking around and stretching his arms. “I live here.” 

Peter rolls his eyes again. “No, I thought you were out of town and you come in like some sort of… red knight.” 

Wade puts an arm around Peter, pulling him close. “How’d you know I was out of town? Keeping tabs on lil’ ol’ me?” 

Peter has a moment of panic. Wade told  _ Peter, _ not Spider-Man, that he’d be gone. Peter knows that line blurs for him sometimes, because he is Spider-Man, but to Wade, they’re separate people. “I hadn’t seen or heard from you in a few days,” he lies, hoping his voice won’t give him away. “Usually there are at least whispers of your whereabouts around the city.” 

“Whispers?” 

Peter can feel his face burning. He pulls out his phone (the right one this time) and unlocks it. “Twitter,” he says easily. 

“Twitter,” Wade repeats like he doesn’t believe Peter. 

Peter nods, hoping he’s acting nonchalant, not like he’s definitely sweating now. “Yeah, people still mistake you for me and they tweet at me, or tag me in photos of you.” He shrugs. “Not the  _ most reliable _ source, but once or twice a day is expected.” 

Damn.  _ Damn. _ That is one believable story. It’s even true, more or less. Spider-Man’s Twitter is very active and sometimes Deadpool is mistaken for Spider-Man, but not every day. It’s enough of a lie that if Wade wanted to check it out himself, it’ll be mostly true. Those lessons from Natasha have finally paid off. 

“Wow. Who needs government databases if you’ve got Twitter?” Wade jokes. 

Peter laughs and opens the app. “Yeah, everyone tracks everything. See?” Peter shows him the screen. It’s the most recent picture he’s been tagged in. It shows Wade doubled over with laughter and Peter watching him.

Wade snags the phone and looks around, as if he could catch the photographer. “That was five minutes ago!” 

Peter shrugs. “It happens when I stay on the ground. Everyone wants to go viral.” 

“Well it looks like you have,” Wade chuckles, handing back the phone. “Looks like everyone is tweeting about the #getalongwebs.” 

Peter’s eyes go wide. “What? No.” He searches the tag. Sure enough, there’s already 100 related tweets along with a video that looks to be Spider-Man lecturing those men. The response, so far, is overwhelmingly positive. Most think it’s “hilarious” or “inspired.” 

Peter likes a few of the more clever comments before putting his phone away. Maybe he’ll look at it again later. “So you want to go on patrol?” Peter asks awkwardly. 

Wade cheers and grabs a grappling gun front his belt. He’s in the air before Peter can blink, yelling about Spider-Man being too slow to catch him. Peter smiles and takes off after him.

* * *

Patrol ended way too late, but Peter and Wade discovered shenanigans going on at one of the harbors not long after they set out together and that took way too long to deal with. Wade lost a hand and is sporting a few new holes temporarily. Peter was battered, his head injury from earlier not helping matters any, but at least everyone left that harbor alive. Peter is proud of Wade. Then they went their separate ways once the police showed up to recover in privacy, then Peter came across an apartment fire because  _ of course he did _ .

In the end, the fire wasn’t  _ too _ bad, all things considered. Only two of the units were completely lost, but the firemen were able to contain the fire and Peter’s costume smells like smoke and Peter felt like he got soot all over himself. It’s bad enough that Peter missed out on post-patrol tacos with Wade, but he had to deal with all this other stuff on top of it. 

So now he’s in his small bathroom, stripping out of his grimy costume carefully, trying not to look in the mirror, but Peter can see how beaten he is even without looking directly at his bruises. He makes the shower too hot and scrubs the night off his skin, even washing his hair twice to fully get rid of the smoky smell. 

Once he’s out of the shower, he sucks it up and looks in the bathroom mirror, at least to assess the damage. What he sees is horrifying, or it would be if he weren’t so tired. All he can think while he’s taking in the shiner he got from some goon getting lucky at the harbor, the bruise on his temple, and the spattering of bruises over his chest from getting thrown around is “just another day at the office.” Peter looks like he got his ass kicked. Well, he did, but he’s usually not this bad. 

He tears himself from his reflection and stumbles naked to his closet. He grabs a hoodie, then shuffles to his dresser, pushed against the wall next to his closet, close to the window at the end of the hall. He grabs a pair of underpants and leans entirely against the dresser to get them on. He shuffles to his bed, exhausted, and falls face-first onto the rumpled sheets. His intention is to fall asleep immediately, but there’s something hard digging into his shoulder, just uncomfortable enough to keep Peter awake. With a grunt and  _ so much effort _ , he manages to move his arm to move whatever it is. 

It’s his personal cell phone, his Spidey one probably still in his uniform that’s on the bathroom floor. He should put his uniform away, but he can’t put it in his closet without washing it first. Everything will smell of smoke. He plans to ignore his phone, but there’s a notification on it. He opens it with a sigh, It’s a text from 💀🌮🗡🖤. It was sent about two hours ago.

💀: Hey just got back from patrol with spidey   
—Regrowing a hand   
—Bored.

Peter huffs a laugh and rolls onto his back so he can use both hands to respond.

P: I hope that didn’t hurt 🙁   
💀: don’t tell me you’re still awake?!   
P: I won’t.   
💀: bb!   
—Sleep now!   
P: Yes, dr. wilson   
—Goodnight   
💀: Night ♡

Peter smiles and closes his eyes, rolling onto his side and falling asleep without a second thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> Sorry it's so short today! I can't believe five chapters are already out! I hope that you liked it! Please leave a kudos and comment, or follow me on twitter! I try to keep up on that


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's tuesday! 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this!

Peter knows he can’t see Wade until a majority of his bruises disappear. He’s always got a smattering of bruises somewhere, but he can usually shrug it off as being clumsy or as something he collected from his time spent with Wade. This time, though, the black eye is too much and his ribs are most likely bruised. He manages to brush Wade off for a few days, way too tempted by Wade’s offers of “stress relief” but he doesn’t give in. He claims that he has homework that he has to finish… which isn’t exactly a lie, but he would rather spend his time with Wade and rush through whatever assignment he has.

Then the weekend comes and it’s Thanksgiving. He’s already made plans, essentially since he moved in, to spend the whole weekend at the Tower with his family. Which makes it easier to come up with excuses to not see Wade, and he doesn’t have to lie about his plans. Peter is still tempted though. Wade is upset, but understands.

Peter’s upset, too. He wants to blow off some steam with Wade, but  _ nooooooo _ , he had to get injured. Stupid injuries. He  _ knows _ his injuries would have been healed enough by Friday night, but he’s already promised his dads that he’d go to the Tower right after classes. They’re excited, acting like he’s moved across the world instead of another borough. They even made a reservation at a fancy restaurant so they can catch up over some good food. Peter doesn’t have the heart to deny his parents, or even delay going to see them for some admittedly good sex. Sex that he’s kind of starting to miss, and it’s been like a week. He just has to go without… for another three nights and two days. 

Not that he’s counting. 

Peter’s just leaving his last class of the day when his phone buzzes. It’s from his dad.

T: I got you a new suit for tonight   
—Family picture in front of the tree b4 dinner

Peter sighs, smiling. For most families, they at least pretend that Thanksgiving is a type of barrier to prevent Christmas from coming too early, but not his. It doesn’t help that Tony needs to send out Christmas cards every year, hence the need for a more formal picture in front of the tree. It’s mostly for PR, but there’s a little tradition they have where they take a fun picture in front of the tree after the serious picture. It’s something they do every year and Peter isn’t ashamed to admit that he likes it. Peter knows the more fun pictures are in an album that Steve has made throughout the years, but he’s told Peter that Tony takes his own copy and has a collection of pictures in the lab. Peter hasn’t been able to confirm that. Peter’s still smiling as he responds.

P: Okay. omw now   
T: 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

Peter laughs. Really, it’s like he’s been in another solar system with how his dad is acting. His phone buzzes again, but this time it’s from Wade. Peter’s heart flutters.

💀: Not even time for a secret rendezvous? 🙁   
P: sadly, no   
—Dad’s already got plans upon plans   
💀: No fair!   
P: well… I’ll be back monday night…   
—….do you want to make an appointment?   
💀: When exactly monday night?   
P: idk maybe 6?    
💀: 6… okay. I will see you then ♡   
P: You can still talk to me before then….   
💀: idk if i can bb   
—I’ll be tempted to sneak into the tower   
—And i know tony will toss me from the top

Peter shivers at the thought. Not of Wade being tossed from the top of the Tower. Could he sneak Wade into the Tower? Would JARVIS help him? He shakes his head. He won’t be doing that even if the thought of sneaking around with Wade makes his stomach flutter.

P: fine, see you on monday

He’s not pouting. No way, no how. It’s not like his conversations with Wade make him smile, or like he  _ looks forward _ to talking to Wade every day. That’s a silly and unfounded accusation. And he  _ likes _ spending time with his dads! He’s  _ not _ counting the days until he can see Wade again. Again: silly and unfounded. Ridiculous even.

No, he’s going to go home for the weekend (not talk to Wade  _ at all _ ) and have  _ fun. _

* * *

Peter does have fun while they do their picture thing. It’s a good time that leaves Peter smiling, but that fun starts to wane over dinner. It’s not like he didn’t have a good time, or a good visit with his dads. Steve and Tony listen to everything Peter wants to talk about, asking questions and backing off over certain topics, then tell their own stories about what everyone in the Tower has been up to since he’s been gone. Apparently everyone is missing Peter and they’ve all had to adjust to his absence, which is surprising for Peter. Clint had to find a new video game buddy, Thor as well, Bruce misses having Peter in the lab (much like Tony does), and Natasha misses him, even though his parents don’t know why she misses him so much. No one knows that Peter and Natasha used to hang out every few weeks, just the two of them, and eat ice cream while Peter braided her hair and they put a bad movie on in the background. 

Peter makes a mental note to be better with everyone. They’re all in the same city, it wouldn’t be too hard to get together. He’ll have to cut down on his Wade-time–

Wait a second.

_ Wade-time?! _

There’s  _ nothing _ going on between them. They’re just having fun. There’s no such thing as “Wade-time” and Peter is definitely  _ not  _ brooding over this because he’s alone in his room and everyone else has gone to bed. Tony said he had plans for the day tomorrow, so Peter should get his rest, but Peter isn’t tired. He’s skipped patrol tonight, so he has some extra energy. And he’s pouting because he’s been bad at keeping in touch with his friends,  _ not _ because he’s missing Wade. He’s  _ not. _

He rolls around a few times, agitated. It’s been a week since he’s seen Wade in person, as Peter. He’s fine. He saw Wade as Spider-Man… even if their conversations are different now. He’s not missing Wade at all. Not for a second. He’s  _ fine. _

He grumbles and rolls around a few more items before grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He texts Wade before he can change his mind. 

P: You up?

He buries his face in his pillows, groaning. He’s so lame. Wade is going to be on patrol, or spending the night with someone else. His life doesn’t revolve around Peter. Even if it kind of hurts to think about Wade spending time with anyone else. Not that he cares. Obviously. 

💀: What r u doing up?   
P: It’s not even that late   
💀: Too late for beauties <3    
P: Sap   
💀: Srsly bb. What’s up?   
P: Bored.   
💀: oh no!   
—You think you can sneak out?

Peter frowns. 

P: Sneak out?   
💀: I may or may not be standing outside the tower…

Peter bolts upright in his bed and looks out the window, like he could spot Wade from this high up. He forces himself to stay seated in his bed, resisting the urge to go to the windows and press his nose against them.

💀: debating btwn a romeo & juliet reference or rapunzel

Peter snorts.

P: Thor’s more rapunzel, dont ya think?   
💀: Fair   
—Let’s go tangled then   
—Let’s sneak out and go on an adventure <3   
P: Are you my dashin rogue then?   
💀: Don’t forget swashbuckling pirate <3   
—So yay or nay bb?   
—Ppl in neighborhoods like this call the cops on ppl like me

Peter bites his lip and debates quickly. It’s not like he’s about to fall asleep anyway…

He jumps out of bed and changes from PJ’s to jeans and a hoodie. He hopes it’s warm enough for the weather. Before he can leave the relative privacy of his bedroom, he addresses JARVIS. “I have my phone, JARVIS, but keep my whereabouts a secret, okay?” 

_ “Unless there’s an emergency, mum’s the word,”  _ JARVIS responds. 

“Thanks,” Peter says, typing on his phone quickly.

P: Be outside in a min   
💀: !!!!!

Peter’s heart is racing as he takes the elevator down. He’s not doing anything wrong, but his dads definitely wouldn’t approve of his excursion. Between the three of them, they've come to an unspoken agreement not to talk about the whole Wade thing, for which Peter is grateful. Although Peter almost blew it earlier when Tony asked Peter if he was seeing anyone. Peter  _ isn’t _ seeing anyone, but he wasn’t about to try to explain that he has regular, casual sex with a man Tony hates. It just won’t do. So he fumbled through some sort of explanation that Peter is sure made Tony think he has a secret partner. Peter will let his dad think anything if it meant not talking about it. 

Peter dashes out of the building like he’s stolen state secrets, bursting out into the cold November air. He takes a couple of deep breaths on the sidewalk and tries to find Wade. Even though it’s late, there are all kinds of people out on the street, but the guy with a hoodie up and nervously shuffling down the street stands out. Peter smirks, taking out his phone and dialing Wade’s number, eyes locked on the big guy. 

After two rings, the guy jumps and pulls out his phone.  _ “Peter?” _ he answers. 

“I expected you to be in uniform,” Peter says casually.

Wade’s head snaps up and he looks around. He locks eyes with Peter. Because of the hood, he can’t see most of Wade’s face, but he can see the smile.  _ “Prefer a man in uniform, huh, Peter?” _ he teases. 

Peter pictures Wade dressed up as a firefighter, big jacket open to show off his chest, with bright red suspenders and a lame joke about something being on fire. Peter shivers, pushing that thought from his mind (even if it’s a very pretty picture). “Depends on the uniform, I guess,” Peter admits sheepishly. He can hear and see Wade laughing. “So you gonna stand there or come over and greet me properly?” 

_ “How rude of me,” _ Wade says, hanging up his phone and stuffing it in his pocket. He half-jogs towards Peter and scoops him up in his arms, princess-style. 

Peter makes a sound of surprise, holding on to Wade’s neck. “Wade!” he laughs when Wade starts to spin them. 

“My beautiful princess!” Wade says loudly, no doubt drawing attention, not that Peter cares. “I’m here to rescue you from your tower!” 

Peter laughs, trying to keep his legs tucked in so he doesn’t accidentally kick someone. When they stop, Peter can tell they’ve  _ definitely _ drawn attention. It’s weird that Peter doesn’t seem to care at all. “My prince!” he cries out dramatically, pulling Wade in for a kiss. It feels natural to do so and Wade melts into the contact. When they pull apart, Peter can feel himself blushing. Wade has this soft look on his face that Peter really likes to see, and he really likes that he can see Wade’s whole face even if it’s dark and he’s got a hood on. Wade is holding his head in a way that Peter can see everything. Knowing that does something to Peter’s heart. “So if I hold you like this, you’ll kiss me?” Wade asks. 

Peter smirks. “We’ve kissed lots before, Wade.” 

Wade’s face twists, but he doesn't say anything. Peter doesn’t know what to make of it. “So what’s the plan?” Peter asks, feeling like something has changed between them but he can’t figure out what. 

Wade carefully settles Peter back onto his feet. Peter wraps himself around Wade’s arm, keeping close. “Thought a nice walk would tire you out.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “A walk?” 

Wade nods and starts walking, Peter keeping pace beside him easily. “Yes, a nice midnight walk.” 

_ “Just _ a walk?” 

Wade tenses, but he’s still smiling. “*I think it’s too cold to break some public indecency laws.” Peter snorts, pressing his face into Wade’s arm. “Unless you’d like to go back to your place?”

Peter shakes his head and leans against Wade some more, absorbing his heat. “I think a walk sounds nice.” He lets Wade lead, and they walk the few blocks to Central Park. The air feels colder without the buildings so close together, but the wind isn’t as biting. “So why are you here? Playing hooky with me,” Peter asks.

“Hooky?” 

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “I thought you patrolled with Spider-Man most nights.” 

“Oh,” Wade says. “You keeping tabs on me?” 

Peter snorts. “It’s all over Twitter. If you’re seen with Spider-Man, it’ll get tweeted about.” 

Wade sighs. “No one respects his privacy.” 

Peter’s eyebrows rise. He wasn’t expecting that, nor how genuine Wade sounds about that. “Don’t you?” he asks. 

“Well, yeah, but I don’t get brownie points for not being an ass,” Wade says back easily. 

Peter smiles. “I’m sure he appreciates it all the same.” 

“Thanks,” Wade ducks his head shyly. 

They walk a bit further in silence and it’s nice. Peter feels relaxed and he spots a bench. “Let’s sit down,” he suggests, already pulling Wade in that direction. 

“Sitting?” Wade asks. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of going for a walk?”

Peter smiles, shrugging. “Sure, but I wanna sit.” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Wade chuckles. 

Peter laughs. “I’m glad you could see it my way.” 

They settle on the empty bench, Peter tucking himself under Wade’s arm and snuggling in close. Wade’s arm and body are a welcome heat against the chilled air. Wade tilts his head back and lets out a huge breath. Peter sighs too, his eyes falling closed as he relaxes into Wade’s side. He could fall asleep right here. “I wish I could see the stars,” says Wade. 

Peter peeks open an eye and looks up. There are clouds, but Peter swears the light pollution is reflecting off them, making everything brighter. “Would you move somewhere remote to see the stars every night?” Peter finds himself asking. He doesn’t want Wade to move away, but he’s not thinking about that. 

Wade hums and Peter’s stomach twists. “Maybe, but I don’t really need to. I go so many places where I can see the stars and those places don’t have Mexican takeout 24/7.” 

Peter giggles, the knot in his stomach easing. “Can’t have that.” 

Wade squeezes him. “See? You get me.” He rubs his thumb over Peter’s arm. “Besides, all those places where I can see the stars has a distinct lack of you, so I don’t wanna be there.” 

Peter’s heart squeezes in his chest and his gaze is fixed forward. At least Wade can’t see his face with how they’re sitting. “You’re so sappy, Wade.” 

Wade kisses the top of Peter’s head and Peter swears heat radiates from that point of contact. “It’s my Canadian-made maple syrup blood.” Peter snorts unattractively and he covers his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. “And my sappiness makes you happy. Can’t hate it.” 

“You have to stop being so sappy,” Peter chuckles. 

“If you want me to shut up…” Wade trails off. Peter looks up Wade and he’s smirking. He stares pointedly at Peter’s lips before looking into his eyes again. Peter gives him an incredulous look. Really? Wade takes a deep, dramatic breath. “Well, where should I start then? Freckles, butt, or eyes–” 

Peter doesn’t let Wade finish that thought, pushing their mouths together. Wade hums happily and Peter knows he shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior, but kissing Wade isn’t so bad. And it’s so easy! 

Wade changes his hold on Peter so his fingers tangle in Peter’s hair. The hold keeps Peter more firmly attached to his lips. Peter appreciates that. He has a good grip on Wade’s hoodie, but it’d be too easy to break apart without that hand there. There’s no urgency to their kiss, no burning heat pushing for more or desperate touches that leave them shaking. It’s a simple and relaxing kiss. Peter melts into it. He’s really glad he snuck out tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments! they fuel me and encourage me to work faster <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not BoyfriendsTM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! 
> 
> Hope you like this chapter!

Thanksgiving comes and goes without incident. Peter’s certain that his dads don’t know about him sneaking out to see Wade. He has to wonder if high school was supposed to be like this: sneaking out after everyone’s asleep to make out with boys that his parents don’t approve of. Peter can’t deny that the night was fun and probably one of his better memories. They finished a loop around the park, Peter hitching a ride on Wade’s back halfway through, and the night ended with a sweet kiss at the base of Avengers Tower. Peter fell asleep easily after that, a smile on his face. 

Wade and Peter get back into their routine after the weekend. No more late-night walks, just afternoon visits and nighttime patrols together. Not that Wade knows they’re patrolling together. Christmas is right around the corner, but Peter isn’t focused on that. He can’t be. December is exam month and his tests are scheduled until the 23rd. He’s been buried in his books since the last day of classes and hasn’t found time to do his Christmas shopping. He’s not looking forward to braving any shopping place after his last exam, but he can’t afford to go before then. 

Waking hours are spent studying, getting groceries, relieving stress from studying, or going on patrol. He’s been spending a lot more time on patrol, wanting to spend more time with Wade. Sure, Wade comes over to help him de-stress, but it’s a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am deal and Peter misses talking to the merc. Other than his patrols, he doesn’t talk to Wade except to complain about exams, or how he hasn't been able to get gifts for his family yet. He knows that he doesn’t  _ need _ to get gifts for his family, but he wants to. Partly because he genuinely wants to, but also partly because it feels like something adults  _ do _ . Especially the ones who live alone. What he should’ve done was go out on his last day of classes instead of spending the afternoon with Wade. But it’s not like he can go back in time. 

He sighs, running his hands through his hair and blinking hard, his eyes tired. Why is chemistry so convoluted? Why did he choose to do something so complicated? He flops backward, lying flat on his bed. Peter has given up his kitchen table for his food messes and his studying has moved to his bed. Sometimes he falls asleep cuddled next to his notes. He’s lying on top of some textbooks and notebooks now, a highlighter digging into his kidney, but Peter isn’t about to move. He feels so unprepared for this upcoming test that he’s already decided he’s going to skip patrol tonight and it’s barely past noon. Peter wants to scream, but he’s so tired. Why does school have to be so stressful?

There’s a knock at the door and Peter groans, dragging himself from his bed. Paper crinkles beneath him and some pens fall to the ground, but he doesn’t care. He’s been in studying hell. Although he has no idea who’s interrupting his personal hell, Peter will welcome the distraction, even to tell them he’s busy. He throws open the door and stares at his visitor. 

“Oh, Baby Boy, you’re looking rough,” Wade greets with a smile. Peter feels his face fall into a glare. He’s not sure why, but it feels right. “Still beautiful though,” Wade adds with a wink. 

Peter bites the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling back. Sure, Wade is interrupting his study time, but he’s already feeling a little better just by being around him. “What are you doing here?” he asks, trying not to smile. 

“I know you told me that you needed to study, so I’m not here to bother you… much.” He winks again and Peter snorts, unable to contain his amusement. “I’ve never been in college, so I have no idea what exam season is like, but I  _ have _ seen a lot of TV and movies, so I brought you this.” Wade pulls something from behind his back. Peter blinks at it. It’s a Deadpool-themed plastic bucket filled with all kinds of goodies: gummy bears, coffee beans, popcorn, other assorted sugary treats… 

“Wow, Wade,” Peter says, taking the bucket with two hands. It’s a little heavier than it looks, but nothing Peter can’t handle. “That’s really sweet, thank you.” 

“It’s no big thing,” Wade shrugs, waving off the thanks. “Just a bunch of sugar to keep you going. It’s probably a bad idea, but I think you get a freebie during exams.” 

Peter hugs the bucket to his chest, oddly touched. “Thank you…” He looks over his shoulder. His bed looks entirely unappealing, overflowing with his work, and his kitchen is a mess. Peter doesn’t exactly want to go back to deal with either of those things right now. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Wade says. 

“Wait,” Peter says before he can think twice. Wade pauses, face open and curious. Peter bites his lip then speaks. “I’m due for a break anyway,” he hears himself saying. “Do you want to come in and watch a movie?” Wade tilts his head. “If you have time, that is,” he adds awkwardly.

Wade’s face softens. “A movie sounds nice.” 

Peter nods and turns around, heading into his kitchen. He decides to pile the dirty dishes from the table into the sink, essentially moving the mess from one place to another, but his clean table gives the illusion that he’s done something. Wade follows him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

He can hear Wade whistle. “Damn, Baby Boy, it looks like a library exploded on your bed.” 

Peter chuckles, digging some popcorn out of the bucket and putting it in the microwave. “My classes are more content-heavy this year,” Peter tells him, looking over some of the coffee beans with an appreciative eye, “I don’t feel like I’m ready.” He can feel his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. This is some pretty decent coffee, with  _ good _ levels of caffeine to keep him going. He opens the bag and smells them, eyes fluttering shut at the scent.

“I think you’re more ready than you think you are,” Wade says. 

Peter snorts. “You’re just saying that because of the orgasms.”

Wade laughs. “No, Peter. It’s because if you can understand anything written in these books, you’re gonna do just fine.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, pulling out his bean grinder. The coffee smells too good to pass up right now. “It’s not even the hard stuff. That’s going to be shoved down my throat for the next two years.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Baby Boy. This looks like Greek to me.” Then Wade is behind him, wrapping his arms around Peter. Peter leans back into Wade’s chest, relaxing in the loose embrace. Wade kisses the side of his neck and Peter tilts his head, giving him more room to do so. “You’re the smartest person I know,” he whispers in Peter’s ear. 

Peter shivers, then shakes his head. He turns on the grinder after adding a couple of scoops of beans, watching them get crushed. It’s noisy, but not loud enough that they can’t hear each other. It’s a coffee accessory that his dad fixed up for him because most grinders are a lot louder. “You know Tony Stark and Bruce Banner,” Peter says. “There’s no way I’m the smartest person you know.” 

“And yet,” Wade says, swaying them back and forth, “you are. I don’t make the rules, baby, it’s just science.” 

“Science?” Peter laughs.

“Mhmm. Science.” 

“Okay,” Peter chuckles, shaking his head. “You want some coffee?”

“You’re already breaking out the good stuff?” Wade teases. 

Peter nods. “Yes, and thank you, by the way.” He turns his head so he can give Wade a quick kiss. It lands on the skin of his jaw and Wade freezes for a second. “So, coffee?” he asks, acting like he didn’t notice Wade freezing.

Wade relaxes, letting out a breath near Peter’s ear. “Yes, please.” He kisses Peter on the cheek. Peter smiles, pleased, but doesn’t turn around. “Do you want me to organize your Greek library?” 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Peter says shaking his head. “You can get comfortable on the couch and pick something to watch.” 

“Would you mind if I did organize it?” 

Peter frowns. “No?” He turns off the grinder and starts preparing the machine.

“Great!” Wade chirps, kissing Peter’s cheek again before bouncing off. Peter smiles and looks over his shoulder. Wade’s already at the bed, carefully putting Peter's stuff into piles. Peter shakes his head, smiling fondly, and goes back to preparing snacks. 

They don’t speak as the apartment slowly fills with the smells of buttered popcorn and good coffee. Peter inhales the scent with a smile. When Peter finishes making everything, Wade is on the couch, flipping through Netflix. All of Peter’s school work is in a neat pile on the floor at the foot of his bed, still in the open, but out of the way. The room looks less aggravating, so Peter’s grateful for Wade cleaning up. 

Still, he has a moment when he feels silly because he doesn’t have a coffee table. He has so many snacks, but nowhere to put them all. It was different with Ned and MJ, since they sat on the floor. He sighs and balances the bowl of popcorn on the Deadpool bucket and carries a cup of coffee in each hand. “Sorry, I don’t have much to put in the coffee,” he says, handing one to Wade. Wade also takes the popcorn, for which Peter thanks him with a smile. “There might be milk, maybe sugar. I’ve been grocery shopping, but mostly for pizza pops and eggos.” 

“You should eat a vegetable,” Wade chuckles, blowing on the top of the coffee before taking a sip. He hums with satisfaction.

Peter snorts, sitting on the other side of the couch, putting the bucket on the ground between them, and taking a sip of his own coffee. He moans loudly at the taste, unable to help himself. That is some  _ damn good _ coffee. Wade’s eyes are wide when Peter looks at him. Peter clears his throat, sitting more comfortably and stealing the popcorn from Wade’s lax grip. “Popcorn is a vegetable,” Peter says. 

Wade smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, Peter.” 

“It has corn in the name,” Peter playfully argues. “It’s a vegetable.” 

Wade steals a few pieces for himself. “I think I came just in time. It sounds like you’re losing it.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. “What did you pick?” 

“A mindless Christmas romcom, to give your mind a break.” 

Peter smiles, taking another sip of coffee. “Give my mind a break or make it fall out my ears?” 

“Why not both?” Wade asks, hitting play.

Peter smiles and gets comfortable, giving Wade the popcorn back so he can curl up on his side of the couch, coffee in hand. “Whatever you say.” 

* * *

The movie is worse than Peter expects, but he has a good time watching it with Wade. They mock it and tease one another, sometimes repeating the cheesy stuff to one another dramatically and Wade gets up to refill their coffees midway through, so Peter doesn’t have to move an inch. 

Now he’s laying across the couch, feet in Wade’s lap, empty coffee mug on the floor and an open bag of gummy bears on his chest. Wade is massaging Peter’s ankles and they’re arguing about what to watch next. “More than one Chrisstmas movie in a row violates the Geneva Convention,” Peter says, throwing a gummy bear at Wade’s head. 

Wade laughs, unbothered by the flying gelatin. “When else can you indulge in watching bad Christmas movies?”

“The next time someone won't talk in interrogation,” Peter shoots back.

“Oh, gummy bears make you sassy,” Wade teases, squeezing Peter’s ankle. Peter throws another one at his head. Wade laughs. “So a more classic movie?” 

Peter settles more comfortably into the couch. “I don’t care. Or, well, I don’t have any ideas, so yours are better.” He pauses. “By default.”

“Oh, goody!” Wade claps his hands and picks another stupid movie. Peter isn’t sure what it’s about exactly, but Christmas romcoms are all the same. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. If anything, Peter should be encouraging Wade to  _ leave _ , not letting him pick a second movie. Wade’s already been here close to two hours and Peter should get back to studying, but he can’t bring himself to ask Wade to go. It’s nice having Wade here. Peter hasn’t felt relaxed in what feels like a long time. He feels like he could have a nap.

He watches Wade with half-open eyes, the movie not interesting enough to watch. Wade seems super into the movie and Peter finds it sweet. Something about Wade unironically loving Christmas movies is adorable to Peter. 

Spending time with Wade has been a lot of fun. A ton of fun. And Peter has the sudden urge to “earn” the nap he feels like having. Well maybe it’s not as sudden as it seems. Wade’s touch, even on his ankle, is burning Peter like a brand. It’s been awhile since they’ve been able to see each other (at least seven days). Peter has been too busy studying or patrolling to do much more than text Wade a goodnight before passing out. 

Peter shimmies down the couch so his feet are more fully in Wade’s lap. Wade seems to take that as a silent demand for a foot massage because he picks up one of Peter’s feet and digs his thumbs in. Peter groans, going limp at the sensation. Wade’s eyes haven’t left the TV once. Peter doesn’t mind the massage, relaxing into the cushions a little further, only for a little bit, though. He has other ideas. 

When Wade moves to the other foot, Peter lets him massage it until it feels like each foot has had about equal attention. Then he enacts his plan. Carefully, extra carefully, Peter starts rubbing his foot over Wade’s crotch. Wade tenses, hands stopping their massage. “Is this okay?” Peter asks. 

Wade nods quickly, shoulders relaxing. “Yes, yeah… thought it was in my head, but you’re really…” he shudders. 

Peter smirks. “It’s been a while, Wade. I’m missing a very wonderful part of you.” 

“My mouth?” 

Peter hums, tapping his chin. “Two parts then.” 

Wade shivers. “You can’t just say stuff like that.” 

Peter pouts, playful. “Why? It’s the truth.” 

“Cause I’m trying to be good here,” Wade says, petting Peter’s leg. “I don’t want to wear you out.” 

Peter’s mouth drops open. “Someone’s cocky.” 

Wade gives him a look. “You don’t think I will? It’s been a while and I think you’re forgetting how good I am.” Seven days is hardly enough time to forget, but Peter likes this game they’re playing. 

Peter smiles incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” 

“Now that’s something I’d love to see.” 

Peter’s heart jumps at the challenge. No way is he going to lose. He moves quickly, settling himself astride Wade’s lap. Wade looks surprised at his sudden lapful and Peter feels vindicated. Peter kisses Wade in the next moment, pushing his lips against Wade’s heatedly. It might have only been seven days, but that’s a lot for Peter and it feels like he’s burning. 

He grinds into Wade’s lap, moaning when he feels Wade’s hands settle on his hips, pulling him down harder. Peter holds the back of Wade’s head, underneath his hood. Wade always stays ridiculously clothed unless they’re fooling around. Peter doesn’t understand why Wade won’t undress more casually, but he always gets naked with Peter, so that’s a win in his book. 

Wade’s hands go underneath Peter’s shirt, rough on bare skin. Peter whines, pushing into Wade’s touch. He loves the way Wade’s hands feel on him. Wade touches him everywhere, but his hands don’t pull away so Peter can take off his shirt. Not that it matters. Peter also likes kissing Wade, he likes the way Wade bites his lips especially. Sure, they hurt afterwards, but it’s  _ so _ worth it. 

Wade’s hands trail over Peter’s hips, fingers going underneath Peter’s sweatpants. Peter breaks away, moaning loudly and pushing back onto Wade’s hands. “No panties, Peter?” Wade asks with a smirk. 

Peter groans. “Wasn’t expecting company,” he pants. 

“Oh, I can leave,” Wade says, a mischievous glint in his eye and making no move to get up.

Peter growls, buting Wade’s neck and making him jump. “Don’t be a tease,” Peter whispers. 

“Uh-huh,” Wade says, hands still in Peter’s pants. He runs a dry finger over Peter’s hole. Peter shudders at the contact, stomach liquefying. “Oh, you’re sensitive today.” Peter whines, grinding back. “And desperate.” He sounds breathless. 

Peter nods, biting his lip. “It’s been a while, Wade. And I’ve been so. Stressed.” He kisses Wade hard, hips rotating. “Out,” he pants against Wade’s lips, goosebumps rising over his skin.

“And I don’t stress you out?” Wade whispers back, breath hot against Peter’s mouth.

Peter shakes his head, kissing Wade’s jaw. “I always feel so good with you, Wade,” he whispers like a confession. It feels like something Peter shouldn’t be saying. 

Wade freezes and Peter worries he’s said too much, but then Wade chuckles, relaxing under him. “Are you glad I tidied your bed?” 

Peter exhales through his nose. “Yes, I am. My hero.” 

Wade laughs and stands without warning, making Peter yelp and hold on tightly. It’s two steps and Wade tosses him down. Peter flops back unattractively and glares up at Wade, who laughs again and strips out of his hoodie and shirt. Peter’s mouth goes dry; he can forgive Wade this time. But then he realizes he didn’t even have to ask Wade to undress this time. “You look surprised, Baby Boy. It hasn’t been  _ that _ long.” 

“It’s been  _ too long _ ,” Peter insists, deciding not to mention that Wade got undressed without being asked, and wrestles out of his shirt, tossing it aside once he’s free. He makes grabby hands at Wade. “Fix it, Wade.” 

“Your wish is my command,” Wade says, getting on the bed and kneeling over Peter. He leans over and kisses Peter, Peter relaxing back into his pillows, wrapping his arms around Wade’s shoulders. His bare shoulders. This kiss isn’t as rough as the one they shared on the couch. It’s nice. 

Wade settles over Peter, maneuvering himself so his hips are between Peter’s legs. Peter hooks his legs around Wade, pulling him close. He can feel Wade smiling against his lips. Peter pushes him back. “What’s got you smiling?” Peter asks. 

Wade sits back so he’s sitting on his heels. Peter comes up with him just by the hold Peter has around Wade’s neck. Wade isn’t even touching him. Peter blushes. “Oh.” 

Wade snickers, kissing the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Adorable koala.” 

Peter frowns. “I’m not adorable.” 

“Sure thing, Baby Boy.” 

He pouts. “I’m not.”

“Sure.” Wade kisses him. “Whatever you say.” Peter continues to frown as Wade peppers kisses all over his face. He can only keep it up for so long before he’s laughing. He loosens his arms, falling backwards, but he doesn’t hit the bed, Wade’s hands coming up and catching him easily. Peter brushes his fingertips over Wade’s face. “What’cha thinking about?” Wade asks, guarded. 

Peter shrugs. “Just… happy.” It’s true. There aren’t any specific thoughts, just contentment. Wade’s face goes soft. Peter pulls him in for another kiss. This one is slow and sweet. 

Wade carefully puts Peter down, keeping their mouths together, but starts to pull off Peter’s sweatpants. He has to separate completely to get Peter’s pants all the way off. Peter lies back and watches Wade move around, legs splayed lazily. Wade chucks Peter’s pants onto the floor then goes to the nightstand to get the stuff. He digs around for a bit, frowning. “What’s wrong?” Peter asks. 

“Looks like you’re out of condoms,” Wade says. 

Peter frowns, trying to remember the last time he bought any. Then he remembers he used the last one the last time he called Wade over and he only made a mental note to get more, which obviously went very well. Peter sighs. “Yeah, I meant to get more… I’ve been so busy lately.” They don’t always use condoms, but it’s really messy when they don’t and Peter is in no way prepared to handle that mess on top of everything else. 

“Well, no worries,” Wade says, kissing Peter’s cheek. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and relaxed.” 

Peter grabs Wade by the head and pushes their lips more firmly together. “You too, Wade,” he whispers against Wade’s lips. Wade gives him a confused look and Peter loves that Wade knows, without him saying, that they won’t be doing anal today. “Not that,” Peter laughs, “but we can still have fun together.” 

“What do ya got in mind, Baby Boy?” 

“Where’s the lube?” Peter asks. He  _ knows _ he has that. Too many times he buys a few tubes when they’re on sale. Wade puts an open bottle in his hand. Peter smiles and kisses Wade in thanks. He sets the tube on his stomach and uses two hands to undo Wade’s jeans. It’s quick work and Wade keeps on kissing his shoulder. Peter pulls out Wade’s cock, pushing his pants and underwear down a bit. Wade shudders at the touch, breath hitching in Peter’s ear. “You like that?” Peter whispers.

Wade whines and nods. “Y-Yeah.” 

Peter tilts his head up and kisses Wade’s lips, using one hand to pump Wade’s cock while the other picks up the lube. He pours some over his hand and uses it to ease the slide onWade’s cock. Any extra he has he uses to spread over his own cock. “Come on, Wade,” Peter pants, “lean down.” 

Wade leans down so their bodies line up. Peter moans when Wade’s cock presses into his. Wade groans, hips jerking. Peter wraps his hand around both of them and thrusts up. “Shit, Peter,” Wade pants. 

“I know,” Peter whispers, trying to kiss Wade, but he’s still out of reach. Thankfully Wade gets the picture and kisses Peter. 

They move together, sliding and thrusting against one another. Peter is in a weird space of not being in a rush, but also burning from the inside to finish. Wade continues to touch him, large hands rubbing over Peter’s hips and thighs, fingers digging into skin. Peter whines, feeling like he might be close. “Wade,” he pants against Wade’s mouth. 

“Peter.” Wade says back, his thrusts picking up their pace. “I’m…” 

“Me, too.” 

They move together more frantically, breathing into each other’s mouths. Heat pools in Peter’s gut and he knows he’s close. So close…

Wade bites him where his neck meets his shoulder and sends Peter over the edge. He comes with a cry, back arching and limbs tensing. Wade follows a few thrusts later, grunting into Peter’s neck. Then he relaxes on top of Peter when his orgasm finishes. 

They’re panting together, Peter pleasantly tired and relaxed underneath Wade’s bulk. He sighs happily, eyes sliding closed. Maybe he’s earned a nap?

Peter is almost asleep when he feels Wade move and get up. He opens his eyes, which are heavier than he expected, whining at Wade moving. Wade is tucking himself back into his pants and getting off the bed. Peter watches in confusion when Wade picks up his shirt and hoodie. “What are you doing?” Peter asks, shivering from the cool air on his exposed skin.

Wade smiles, but it doesn’t look right. “I’m going to let beauties get their rest,” he tells Peter.

Peter frowns. “You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, I’ve already overstayed my welcome.” Peter doesn’t like the way Wade says that. He leans over Peter and kisses him quickly. “Thanks for the fun afternoon. Good luck on your exams.” 

Peter’s mouth falls open, but he can’t find anything to say. So he watches Wade leave, tongue stuck in his throat. He wants Wade to stay, but he doesn’t have a reason to keep him around. They are just sex friends, nothing more. 

Peter forces himself out his post-sex glow to have a shower, not sure why he thought what they did would be less messy. He’s covered in semen and sweat, but at least his sheets aren’t that dirty. Peter hates that he feels cold and empty now. He doesn’t know why he would feel that way; he had a fun afternoon with a friend and he even got to have sex! Peter should be feeling good but… why does it feel like he made a mistake by allowing Wade to leave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Peter, to get out of the hole, you gotta stop digging <3 
> 
> Just a heads up for the next chapter, my editor has made some major suggestions and it'll take a few days to do it if i take her advice. I'm hoping to stick on schedule, but if it doesn't come out on Tuesday, I will post as soon as possible and keep up with the Friday post schedule. It shouldn't take more than a week, but I thought everyone should know <3 jic
> 
> other than that, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Christmas, mid-January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! IT'S HERE!!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!
> 
> I had to rewrite this chapter and i hope that it's come out better. It has all the same information but is hopefully is told in a much better way!!
> 
> I'm going to respond to comments from the last chapter right now, but i'm getting this out because I told you guys I wouldn't hold out! So here you go!

The holidays pass with no more incident than normal for the holiday season. Peter went to the Tower for Christmas, despite Tony trying to convince everyone to spend the holiday in Malibu. His reasoning was the sand and sun and how the Malibu mansion was bigger than the Tower. It would have been nice, but Peter didn’t want to leave New York. It was also an obvious ploy to get Peter to stick around longer than he did. Peter did spend the 23rd to the 26th with his family at the Tower, but he went back to his place to decompress before the new year. 

It’s nice that his dad misses him and wants to spend so much time with him, but now that Peter has more or less gotten into the swing of living alone, he’s starting to think of his tiny apartment as ‘home.’ He likes going to the Tower and enjoys spending time with everyone there, but he has a life outside of, and separate from, his parents now. Peter has bills, grocery shopping, movie nights with friends, study dates with classmates, Skype calls with OG MJ, Spider-Man at night, his afternoons with Wade, and everything else that comes with living alone. Whenever he goes to the Tower, he feels like a guest. Christmas was a lot of fun, and Peter had a good time there, but even those three short days away from his apartment, he felt homesick. 

Still, Peter did go back on the 30th in the morning to spend some extra time with his dads before their new year celebration. New Year’s Eve was a small party in the Tower, with Ned and the MJs on the guest list. Ned was so excited he could barely function around so many heroes. Michelle thought he was hilarious and did nothing to ease Ned’s nerves the entire time she was around. If anything, she exacerbated Ned’s fanboying. Mary Jane found it amusing, but had trouble turning off her work brain to just enjoy the party, sometimes accidentally interrogating one of the Avengers because of a sideways comment. Peter found that amusing, especially when a question would stump one of his dads. 

Mary Jane wasn’t supposed to be back in New York for the holidays. She has been and probably always will be a strong-willed woman who wants to do things for herself and pay her own way. She had been saving for a round-trip ticket to New York for the holidays, but some last-minute expenditures ate away at that savings to a point where she couldn’t even get a cheap flight. Mary Jane is like Peter’s sister and he wasn’t about to let her spend the holidays alone, so he got her a ticket, despite her protests. 

She ended up using the ticket, but didn’t thank Peter until they dropped her off at the airport to go back to DC. Peter knows it’s not because she wasn’t grateful; it was only her pride that kept her thanks silent until the last minute. He wasn’t offended, just happy to help her out, and Mary Jane couldn’t deny that they had a good time. She did make him promise not to do it again, though. He kept his fingers crossed for that promise. 

One thing Peter forgot to take into account in making sure Mary Jane came back to New York was the fact that she and Michelle hadn’t officially met before then. They had messaged on and off, but had yet to meet in person and they got along exceedingly well. He didn’t expect them to  _ not  _ get along, but he didn’t think they’d get on like a house on fire in a drought. They enjoyed teaming up and teasing Peter for a good portion of the break. It’s all in good fun, so it’s fine. He’s just glad all his friends get along.

The biggest issue was when Michelle told Mary Jane about Wade. Peter wasn’t keeping Wade a secret from Mary Jane, not exactly. She doesn’t need to know every single detail of his sex life, despite whatever she says. It was easy to assume that she wouldn’t find out because over the holidays there was an unspoken rule between the friends to not bring up Wade in front of his dads. Mary Jane mostly hung out at family things with Steve and Tony present, but he didn’t think that she and Michelle would talk outside of that or when Mary Jane went back to DC, but they did. Mary Jane called him immediately and  _ demanded _ details and confirmation that what Michelle said was true. Michelle had been liberal with the information she shared, leaving Peter red-faced and stammering, trying to explain how  _ technically  _ Michelle was correct, but she was dramatizing it a bit. If Michelle gave that information on her own whim or if Mary Jane interrogated her, Peter will never know. They won’t tell him. 

Again, he’s glad they get along, but he feels like they are plotting against him.

Peter also had to endure a lecture about keeping secrets and had to promise to keep her in the loop with how things progress with Wade. He made that promise, but he was half-lying. Really, his friends don’t need to know  _ everything _ that happens with him and Wade, especially since they’re just having sex. He’s sure they don't want  _ those  _ details.

Now it’s a Friday in the middle of January. Life has settled more or less back to normal. Peter and all his friends are getting back into the swing of school. Peter and Ned sometimes meet up to study and share notes, Michelle has a few projects she needs to get started, and Mary Jane caught the trail of some dirty senator ( _ alleged _ dirty senator) and she’s had her nose to the ground for the past few days; communication with her has been sparse. Peter’s been keeping up on his assignments. Hopefully he’ll keep up in the coming weeks, but everyone knows that two weeks is the make or break for keeping on top of school work. 

Wade is due to drop by for the afternoon. He said he’d be dropping by around two and it’s about one-thirty now. Peter just finished cleaning the apartment and had a quick shower to freshen up. All he has to do is wait. It hasn’t been long since he’s seen Wade, a few days at most, but Peter is looking forward to this afternoon. It’ll be a great refresher to perk him up for patrol tonight. 

He doesn’t know why, but he decides to check out his upcoming due dates for assignments on his computer, which is at twenty percent for a charge. He should really find his charger before he goes out on patrol tonight so it can charge while he’s out. Most of the stuff is still at least a week away and he has plenty of time to do it–but he freezes when he spots the date on a specific assignment. 

Praying that he’s wrong, Peter tears into his day planner, which should be in his backpack but is on the kitchen counter instead, checking to see what he wrote down. According to the day planner, it’s due electronically next Friday by 1159 PM, but according to the syllabus, the assignment is due  _ today _ by 1159 PM and Peter hasn’t even started. He doesn’t even know the topic he’s supposed to cover. 

“Fuck,” Peter says weakly, fear settling in for only a moment before panic takes over. He runs around his room, grabbing his textbooks and notebooks for that class, piling them onto the kitchen table, then starts frantically searching for his backpack. He could have sworn he saw it earlier, but he put it away! Where did he put it away?! Why did he have to clean up?! 

Before panic gives way to hysteria, there’s a knock at the door. Peter opens the door without thinking. Wade jerks back, eyes wide. “Baby boy? Are you okay?” he asks. “Your eyes are wild.” 

“Wade, oh my god,” Peter says quickly. “I can’t find my backpack. Help me find my backpack, please.” He grabs onto Wade’s arm and drags him inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

Wade blinks then nods, entering the apartment without further prompting. “When’s the last time you remember having it?” 

“I don’t know!” Peter says frantically, looking around again. The room is still clean and he  _ can’t see it _ . “I was cleaning and I realized I have a paper due and I need my pencil case and my charger and–” Peter takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know why he’s freaking out so bad, maybe because he’s never failed to get an assignment in, despite how busy his life is. It feels like the world might end if he can’t get this done. 

Wade’s warm hand is between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles. “Breathe, Peter. You were cleaning? It was here when you cleaned?” Wade asks. Peter nods, trying to breathe in through his nose, but it feels like he might suffocate. “That means that it’s inside the apartment and your place is tiny. Check under the bed and I’ll check the closets, okay?” 

Peter nods and locks eyes on his bed. Now that he has something to do, he needs to do it right now. He nearly dives underneath his bed, searching, but, for the first time Peter’s ever had in his life, the underneath of his bed is completely clean. Peter rushes to the closet in the hallway, flinging it open–and has another mini heart attack. His Spider-Man suit isn’t properly hidden and Wade could’ve seen that. 

He quickly shoves his suit behind some other clothes and steps on something. It turns out to be his backpack. Peter cries out in relief, the panic about his suit forgotten. “Find it?” Wade asks. 

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, taking the whole thing with him to the table. All the panicked energy is draining out of him and it’s easier to think again. “I’m sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean… I mean…” Wade is standing next to his kitchen table, smiling slightly. Peter sets his bag on the chair and puts his hands behind Wade’s neck and pulls him into a short kiss. “Hi, Wade.” 

“I thought student-induced panic was more for the end of the semester,” Wade jokes, hands on Peter’s hips. 

Peter laughs weakly, leaning into Wade’s body heat. God, he wishes he could forget about this dumb assignment and indulge, but he can’t. Although he doesn’t pull away right away. “I’ve… never not done all of my homework.” 

Wade gives him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth. “Nerd,” he teases. 

Peter huffs, but doesn’t argue. He brings Wade in for another kiss, this one deeper and longer than the last one. Wade feels so good against him and Peter can feel himself relaxing. He does regretfully pull away before he gets  _ too _ distracted by how nice it is to kiss Wade. “I’m sorry, I didn’t look at the dates properly and I have something due tonight and I haven’t even started it,” Peter says, but doesn’t make a move to let Wade go. 

Wade gives him an understanding smile. “So you have to get into nerd mode and do it?” Peter nods. Wade kisses him again then pulls back. “I get it. Rain check?” 

It would be so easy to agree to that and to see Wade to the door, but Peter doesn’t want him to leave. “I-It shouldn’t take too long,” Peter says, voice a little high. In all honesty, he hasn’t looked at the requirements yet. It could be a much bigger project that he thinks, but he wants Wade to stay. “Y-You can stay if you want.” 

Wade gives him a wide-eyed look, somehow hopeful and… defensive? “Are you sure?” He sounds like he really wants to stay.

Peter smiles at him. “If you can behave.” 

“You won’t even know I’m here!” Wade says happily. Peter doubts that, since Wade is, well,  _ Wade _ , but he’s happy to realize that Wade doesn’t want to leave either. He goes to Peter’s couch and flips on the TV, changing it to Netflix and turning down the volume. 

Peter lets himself watch for a moment before turning to his schoolwork. First things first, he has to collect his sources. Or, well, see what he needs to collect in the first place. He despairs a little to see that the professor expects a 1500-word paper, but Peter isn’t deterred. It won’t be too hard to do. He checks out the rubric and the purpose of the paper. He could use some textbooks from other classes for this. 

He gets up from the table and goes to his book pile next to his TV, trying to not get between Wade and the screen, and starts picking out the ones he needs. “No bookshelf?” Wade asks, teasing in his tone. 

“I have a bookshelf,” Peter says without looking away from his textbooks. 

“Is it an invisible bookshelf?” 

Peter gives Wade a playful glare. Wade is smiling at him. “No, it’s not invisible, it’s just not put together.” He gestures to a box in the corner that’s been collecting dust for a couple of weeks. He’s been meaning to do that, but he’s been busy either doing stuff or relaxing. And his current system works, so he hasn’t had much motivation to change anything. “It’s right there.” 

“Can I put it together?” 

Peter gives Wade a confused look. “You want to put my bookshelf together?” he asks incredulously, then shakes his head before Wade can respond. “No, Wade. You don’t have to do that for me. It won’t be too hard to do, I just gotta do it.” He’s just gotta stop being lazy about it.

“Well then, let me do it if it won’t be too hard,” Wade says. “I know I don’t have to, but what if I want to?” 

Peter can’t think of a good reason to say no to Wade because it really isn’t that big of a deal. He shrugs. “Then knock yourself out.” He doesn’t want to waste time arguing with Wade. The sooner he starts, the sooner he finishes, and the sooner he can get Wade naked. He settles at the table and gets sucked into his assignment. 

Peter can hear the TV is on, but it’s at a low enough volume that it doesn’t bother him. If he thinks about it, the small sounds of Wade being in the same room as him are comforting, even if Peter feels spikes of anxiety every time he checks the time and it seems to have passed despite his desire for time to slow down, just this one time. 

Peter’s concentration wavers when there’s a knock on the door. His first thought is that it’s his dad dropping by for a visit, but Wade answers the door like he knows who’s there. He also answers it like he lives here. That does something to Peter’s stomach, but he’s sure it’s just hunger because he can smell something delicious. “Food?” Peter asks, voice cracking. He coughs, realizing that he’s pretty thirsty as well. 

Wade thanks the delivery person and kicks the door shut behind him. “Food,” he confirms, holding out a couple of takeout containers, smile on his face. He takes a seat across from Peter, carefully putting the food on top of an open textbook. “Take whichever one you want, I just thought you could use some fuel for that brain.” 

Peter peeks inside the boxes and his mouth waters. “Carbonara?” Peter asks, deciding that he’s going to eat this one. Tony has raised Peter to enjoy his Italian roots and Peter has a soft spot for a good Carbonara, even if none can compare to Nana Stark’s recipe. Tony sometimes makes it on special occasions. Steve is partial to his mama’s lasagna recipe and it has created some fun food contests where Peter is always the judge. No one loses on those days. 

Wade takes the other dish and asks some surface questions about his assignment, but doesn’t take up too much of Peter’s time. He stays seated with Peter until Peter finishes scarfing down his food, taking the container and disposing of it, leaving Peter to continue working. Peter thinks he thanks Wade, but with the energy from the food he gets sucked back into his work. He barely comes out of his place of focus even when he goes to the bathroom. 

The only time Peter allows himself to sit back and relax is after he submits his assignment after a quick proofread and a confirmation email that the assignment has been properly submitted. He sits back in his chair, back and jaw sore. His back hurts from sitting for so long in an unforgiving kitchen chair, his jaw from how he clenches it when he writes. Then he looks at the time: 1143 PM. Too close for comfort. He still has time to go out for patrol if he wants, but he feels drained. 

He looks around his room and spots the bookshelf first. It’s all set up in the corner, his collection of books and textbooks sorted on it. Peter smiles slightly, collecting his textbooks and taking them to the bookshelf to add them to the mix. As he walks around the couch, he notices that Wade is lying down on it, his hoodie off and a makeshift pillow under his head. One of Peter’s throw pillows is elevating Wade’s feet and he’s holding the other one in his arms like a teddy bear. His eyes are closed, but Peter doesn’t think he’s sleeping, or if he is, he’s not sleeping very deeply. 

Peter pauses when he realizes that Wade is wearing a t-shirt instead of a long-sleeve, so Peter has an unobstructed view of Wade’s arms. He holds his breath, taking in the sight. He rarely gets to enjoy the sight of Wade’s arms, since they’re usually busy doing something else, or Wade is wearing one of his long-sleeves or his hoodie. Peter can also see Wade’s neck and head and his stomach flutters. It feels like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be seeing, like a peep show. He shakes his head and continues cleaning up his workspace, making a couple of trips to get all his books put away. 

Once he’s done, he jumps a little when Wade speaks. “You done?” he asks gruffly.

Peter looks over his shoulder. He’s crouched in front of the bookcase, having just finished shoving some books in on the bottom shelf. Wade is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, looking cute as hell. Peter smiles at him. “Yeah, just cleaning up.” 

“You make it in time?” Wade asks, sitting up and stretching, yawning widely. 

Seeing Wade yawn has Peter yawning and he really feels drained. Maybe he won’t go out for patrol tonight. But he’s also too drained to take advantage of having Wade in his apartment. 

“Yeah,” Peter says, rubbing his eyes, standing and going to sit on the couch next to Wade. He cuddles into Wade’s side, putting the larger man’s arm around him.

Wade tenses for a moment, but then holds Peter close. “Good job,” he says, kissing the crown of Peter’s head. Peter hums, slumping into Wade. “I knew you could do it.” 

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Peter whispers. “I feel like I wasted your time.” 

“No, baby boy,” Wade says quickly. “Today was  _ not _ a waste of time. I got to spend so much time with you and got to see you make your cute concentrating face.” He boops Peter’s nose. Peter glares up at him, but it doesn't have much heat. He’s glaring for the principle of the thing. Wade is smiling at him. It’s an entirely different sight without the shadow of his hood covering his head. Peter’s breath hitches. “But it is getting late, and I’m always nagging you to get your beauty sleep, so I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Peter’s heart squeezes. Why does Wade always want to leave when Peter hasn’t asked him to? Wade stands up, but Peter grabs onto Wade’s hand, holding him in place. He can’t look up, but he knows Wade is looking at him. “Stay,” he requests quietly, cheeks turning pink. 

“You want me to stay?” Wade asks, sounding like he can’t believe it. “You’re exhausted, Peter. You should go to sleep.” 

“So sleep with me,” Peter responds. “Just sleep.” 

Peter’s heart is starting to race. Why does that sound like such a good idea? Wade has never stayed over before, but there must have been a reason for that, even though he can’t remember what it was. Well, he’s never around so late. This one time can’t hurt, right?

“O-Okay…” Wade says after a tense moment of silence. Peter relaxes, letting out a breath of relief. He stands and pulls Wade towards the bathroom. 

“I have a toothbrush you can use if you want,” Peter says by way of explanation for why he’s still holding onto Wade’s hand. He’s not sure why he doesn’t want to let go of Wade. Maybe he’s scared that Wade will run if he lets go. 

“Great,” Wade chirps. “I got parmesan breath and that ain’t pretty.” 

Peter laughs, feeling lighter. 

They get ready for bed together, side by side at the bathroom mirror, playfully elbowing one another. It’s not their fault the bathroom is so small, but they’re both giggling by the time they’re done. Peter would usually have a quick shower before bed, but he’s usually coming in from patrol. Instead he strips to his underwear, leaving his clothes on the floor, and heads to the apartment door to make sure that it’s properly locked before going back to the bed. 

Wade is already under the covers, which are pulled up to his chin. He’s giving Peter a guarded look. Peter smiles at him and turns off the lights before crawling over Wade so he’s between Wade and the wall. Wade makes all kinds of exaggerated pained noises as Peter makes his way over him. Peter laughs, trying to move quickly, but Wade is squirming and flailing, just being ridiculous. 

Eventually, Peter gets under the covers and snuggles right into Wade’s side. Wade has also stripped to his underwear, so all his skin is pressing against Peter’s. Peter sighs happily, getting as close as he can manage. Wade is like a space heater. “Who knew you were such a cuddlebug?” Wade whispers, hands running over Peter’s back and arms, almost petting him. 

Peter wants to make a comment about how Wade never sticks around long enough to find out himself, but he feels like that wouldn’t be a good thing to say. Instead, he reaches an arm up and pulls himself up so he can kiss Wade. Wade tenses for a second, then melts into Peter’s hold, kissing him back every time Peter kisses him. They’re small pecks, nothing too heavy. It’s nice. 

Peter wonders why it feels like he has a million things to say to Wade. He doesn’t want to think about it too hard, so he continues to kiss Wade until he falls asleep. 

* * *

When Peter wakes up, he feels an unusual sense of calm. It isn’t unusual for him to feel rested, he tends to sleep pretty heavily most days and even a short, but deep, sleep can leave him feeling relaxed. This is different though. This time he’s waking up with someone else in his bed, their arm over him and Peter tucked in tightly into their body heat. 

“Morning,” Wade greets, arm flexing like he’s giving Peter a one armed hug. 

Peter snuggles in happily, nose on Wade’s collar bone. “Morning,” he responds, settling in comfortably, his legs tangling with Wade’s. He inhales through his nose. Wade doesn’t smell like much, just skin and something like lotion. It’d make sense if his scars dry out that he would moisturize. 

“You’re rather cuddly this morning,” Wade comments, lips brushing over the top of Peter’s head. 

“I can stop,” Peter offers, making no effort to move away. In fact he snuggles closer, as much as he can.

Wade’s arm tightens around him, holding him close. “I never said that, don’t be crazy.” 

Peter laughs, running his hands over Wade’s stomach and then around his back, holding him in a loose embrace. “That’s what I thought,” Peter mumbles, eyes closed. “And you’re just as cuddly as me, Mr. Wilson.” 

“Does that surprise you?” Wade asks. “These muscles are more than just for show, baby boy.” 

“They’re also for punching bad guys?” Peter teases. 

“Perhaps that’s the tertiary function,” Wade sniffs. 

“Tertiary?” Peter asks incredulously, looking up but all he can see is Wade’s chin. 

“Yeah, it means third, or thirdly,” Wade says. “I can’t believe I know a word you don’t know!” 

Peter smiles and decides to keep his mouth shut, eyes closing. He knows what tertiary means, but he’ll let Wade have this one. “So what are the primary and secondary functions?” 

Wade chuckles.”Primary is obviously for looking good and attracting cuties.” 

“Like me?” 

“Like you,” Wade confirms, kissing Peter’s head again. They share a small laugh, just comfortable enough together in this space. “Second is for holding you close,” he whispers, like he’s confessing something. 

Peter’s eyes snap open and his heart jumps into his throat. He’s grateful that Wade can’t see him, since he’s not sure what his face looks like. So many emotions roll around inside him, Peter can’t name them all. Eventually he settles on saying, “Sap,” with a voice that cracks without his permission. 

“Hmm,” Wade hums. “I think we established you like my Canadian-branded sappiness.” 

“There’s a lot of things I like about you, Wade,” Peter says without thinking. 

Wade tenses around him and Peter has a moment of panic that he said something weird. But the looming uncomfortable silence is interrupted by Wade’s stomach growling loudly. Peter laughs, relaxing again, Wade relaxing as he does. “I’m starving, what do ya got for grub?” 

Peter shrugs. “Not sure.” There should be something. It hasn’t been that long since he’s gone grocery shopping. He shifts and realizes he has to pee. He sighs in annoyance. “Nature calls,” he grumbles, not wanting to leave Wade’s arms. He soaks in Wade’s heat for another moment then untangles himself. Wade lets him go, his hands lingering on Peter until he’s out of reach. 

Peter shivers, his room feeling arctic outside of his bed. He has to shuffle to the end of the bed since he’s on the side. Internally, Peter hopes that he didn’t look too stupid scooting down the bed. He stretches as he stands and his foot nudges against something soft. It’s Wade’s sweater. Peter might not be able to be in Wade’s arms at the moment, so his sweater will have to be the next best thing. He doesn’t even ask permission, just scoops up the sweater, slips it on over his shoulders and zips it up.. It hangs loosely around Peter and it smells so much like Wade that Peter can’t help but smile. He pulls the hood over his head and heads into the bathroom. He takes his time doing his business then brushes his teeth. Morning breath isn’t attractive. 

When Peter gets back into the main room, Wade isn’t in his bed anymore, but he hasn’t gotten far. He’s in Peter’s kitchen, rummaging through Peter’s cupboards in nothing but his underwear. Peter smiles at the sight and takes a seat at the table, letting the sleeves of Wade’s sweater fall over his hands. Wade smiles at him once he’s seated. “You got enough ingredients for some pancakes. Ready to have your mind blown?” 

“Pancakes?” Peter asks, smiling back. 

Wade nods, pulling out a pan and a large bowl. Peter doesn’t exactly have mixing bowls, or he doesn’t use them for that purpose. He just uses them for popcorn and other snack foods. Peter watches Wade move around the space at his ease. There’s something… comforting about seeing Wade moving so freely, so much skin on display. 

Peter leans his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, watching Wade’s ass as he works. “You’re gonna burn holes through me if you stare any harder,” Wade teases, shaking his butt. 

Peter blushes, but doesn’t stop looking. “You’ve got a nice butt, Wade,” he says. 

Wade stops and looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” 

“You’ve got a nice butt,” Peter repeats clearly, looking into Wade’s eyes. Challenging him to disagree.

Wade squints at him. “You’re only saying that because you can’t see your butt.” 

“Can’t we both have nice butts?” 

“You’re such a goody-goody,” Wade teases. Peter laughs. There’s the sizzle of pancake batter cooking and Peter’s mouth starts to water. He didn’t realize he was that hungry. 

Wade starts to hum a song and focuses on cooking the food. Peter decides he should be helpful. His laptop and pencil case are still on the table where he left them last night, so he puts those away, then starts to set the table. Plates, cutlery, and glasses for juice, which he does have. He checked the fridge before grabbing the glasses. Then he goes to the coffee maker. He’s surprised that he hasn’t already started the coffee, since he’s always got to have at least one cup after he wakes up. There’s something about this morning, though, where his caffeine boost isn’t needed. 

“Coffee?” Peter asks, going through the familiar process of making a pot, grinding up some of the beans Wade gave him for exams. He used this coffee liberally through exams, then saved the rest of it for days when he’s missing Wade, or just needing that extra pick-me-up. He has regular stuff for other days.

“That sounds good, baby boy,” Wade says, pouring some more batter. Peter glances over: Wade has made a nice little stack already. He has no idea how many pancakes Wade is going to make, but he’s grateful. They smell amazing. 

While the coffee brews, Peter goes around collecting everything else they’ll need. Syrup goes onto the table, same with the butter. He prepares some fruit, for the pancakes or just for something else to eat. He cuts up some apples and strawberries, and washes some raspberries. Then he cuts up some oranges. The spread looks almost healthy, which has Peter glowing with pride. He grabs the milk and juice, setting them on the table, then goes to stand next to his coffee maker. The kitchen is tiny, so Peter is standing close to Wade. Wade is singing under his breath, something about pancakes? It’s cute. Peter smiles, watching him fondly. Then the coffee is done and Peter turns his attention to that. 

By the time he gets two mugs ready for them, Wade is turning off the stove and taking a heaping pile of pancakes to the table. Wade serves them each a few pancakes before taking a seat. Peter hands over one of the coffees (the one he gives Wade doesn’t have less in it from Peter sneaking a sip. No way). Before Peter takes his own seat, he leans down and kisses Wade’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says. 

Wade freezes for a second, but then he continues moving. If Peter wasn’t so close, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. “You’re welcome,” Wade responds, almost shy. Peter takes a seat and prepares his plate, throwing some strawberries on top of the pancakes and adding some syrup. After drinking some more coffee, of course. Then he takes a bite of pancake and moans. “Oh that’s good,” he says around his mouthful, already cutting up another piece. 

“Careful with those sounds,” Wade says, voice deep. Peter shivers at the tone. He spares Wade a glance. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” 

“What sounds?” Peter asks innocently. “These?” He takes another bite and moans exaggeratedly, closing his eyes in pleasure. When he opens them, Wade is giving him a heated look and it makes Peter shiver all the more. 

Peter licks his lips, tasting syrup. Wade’s hands are still around his cutlery and he’s not moving. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Peter asks, taking another bite. 

Wade starts cutting his pancakes without looking away from Peter, then shoves a too-big piece into his mouth. Peter snorts, covering his mouth to giggle. The tension leaves Wade’s frame as he smiles, cheeks puffing out. It’s adorable and he shouldn’t be able to be so adorable. “So how’s work been?” Peter asks. He doesn’t feel scared asking about it now that he knows that Wade doesn’t kill anymore. 

Wade shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. Then he adds a splash of milk into it. “Same old shit, different piles.” 

“How’s Weasel?” 

Wade chuckles. “The same.” 

Peter purses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He shakes his head and cuts another piece off to eat, making sure there’s a strawberry on the end of his fork as well. “Go anywhere nice recently?” Sometimes Wade’s jobs take him to some pretty, pretty places, even if he doesn’t get to enjoy them too much.

“Nothing further than Michigan,” Wade says around another mouthful then swallows loudly. “How about school? Kicking butt?” With another big bite, his plate is empty. He grabs two more pancakes with his bare hands and fixes them up. This time he cuts them into more manageable pieces. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “You saw me last night, Wade. I wasn’t exactly killing it.” 

“I beg to differ,” Wade snorts, taking a sip of coffee. “You knocked out a paper in a few hours that I’m sure will knock someone’s socks off.” 

Peter’s mouth tries to smile, but Peter doesn’t let it. The impressiveness of writing papers in a short period of time lessens when Peter finds himself doing it a few times a semester. Sure, he can do it, but it doesn’t feel like he can handle it. “Yeah, I guess… but I didn’t spend any time with you last night.” 

Wade reaches over the table, gently laying his hand on Peter’s arm. “Peter, I told you last night. I got to spend the whole night with you. Last night is definitely in my top ten.” 

Peter blushes. “We didn’t even have sex,” he points out. That’s why Wade comes over.

Wade takes his hand back, cutting up some more food with quicker movements. He shrugs. “I got to see you in the zone, where all that brain magic happens.” He looks at Peter and winks. “It’s like peeking behind the curtain.” 

Peter shakes his head fondly. “You’re so weird, Wade.” 

Wade smiles, but there’s a lack of energy there. “That’s who I am, baby.” He clears his throat and sits up straight. “Other than last night’s panic attack, how’s the new semester treating you?” 

Peter groans, stabbing a strawberry with more force than necessary. “I think there’s  _ more _ work now. Shouldn’t it be getting easier?” 

“Maybe it’s like a video game,” Wade suggests, a broad smile on his face, “and it gets harder and harder until you have to battle the boss?” 

Peter’s smiling in return, amused. “The boss?” 

“Yeah!” Wade says happily, waving around his fork like a sword. Peter holds in his laughter, piling two more pancakes onto his now-empty plate. “Like one of your professors, one of the mean ones, or maybe even the dean!” Wade’s eyes light up. “Maybe I should go back to school. I’d  _ love _ to fight a dean.” 

Peter is laughing out loud now. “Wade! School doesn’t work like that,” he says between laughs. 

“Well, it should,” Wade pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe I’ll make my own school.” He’s pouting and it’s adorable.

“You do that,” Peter giggles. He takes the last gulp of his coffee. ‘Want a refill?” Peter asks, holding up his empty mug. 

“Nah,” Wade says, waving him off. “I’m gonna have some OJ.” 

Peter shrugs, rising from his seat and heading to the coffee pot. “More for me, then.”

“Is this the coffee I got you?” 

Peter nods, taking a sip straight away and topping it off before going back to the table. “Yeah, it’s good stuff. Have I thanked you for it, yet?” 

Wade smiles fondly. “Yes, you have. I’m surprised there’s any left if it’s so good.” 

“I don’t want to run out of it, so whatever I had left after exams has been stored and I only have it sometimes.” Peter sips at his mug this time. He really does need to slow down if he wants to make this stuff last. 

“Well,” Wade says awkwardly, not looking at Peter. Instead he’s focused on pouring a glass of orange juice for himself. “I can always get you more?” 

Peter blushes, looking down. “If you want to,” Peter says softly. He would really love that. Sure he could ask Wade where he got it and get some himself, but it feels wrong to do that. This is the coffee  _ Wade _ got for him, so Wade has to get him more. That makes sense… right?

The rest of breakfast passes without incident, the conversation between them flowing easily. They polish off all of the food, leaving only dirty dishes. Peter doesn’t want to do them right now, so he tells Wade to just put everything in the sink and join him back in bed. He could help Wade, but he feels like if he doesn’t give Wade an incentive to skip the dishes, he’s going to get roped into doing them alongside Wade. 

Peter is alone in bed for a good five minutes before Wade joins him. Wade jumps onto the bed, jostling Peter and making him laugh. They play-wrestle for a few minutes, Wade’s fingers dancing over Peter’s ribs sometimes and making him laugh loudly, before settling against each other, Wade’s arm under Peter’s head and their legs tangled together. Peter is turned towards Wade and Wade is on his back. Peter traces a finger over Wade’s chest, eyes following the movement, but he’s just enjoying the closeness, not wanting to incite anything… yet.. 

Wade has his hand on the back of Peter’s head, his thumb running over the hood Peter still has on. “Thanks for breakfast,” Peter whispers, unsure if he can be louder. It feels wrong to be loud now. He’s also not sure what else he can say. He knows he already thanked Wade, but it feels like he needs to say something.

“My pleasure,” Wade whispers back. Peter’s finger traces around Wade’s nipple and Wade shivers. His other hand comes up and grabs onto Peter’s hand. It stops Peter from playing with the now-hardened nub, but it feels like he wants to hold Peter’s hand instead of wanting him to stop. 

Peter sighs, relaxing, and lets himself be held. He should be doing something now instead of lying around: sending Wade off, trying to get into his pants, something,  _ anything, _ but Peter likes what they’re doing right now. Lying together, bellies full of good food and coffee, enjoying each other’s company. Wade’s thumb continues to rub Peter’s head. He could fall asleep like this. Peter doesn’t try to fight it, eyes sliding closed with a contented sigh.

Then Peter’s head is tilted back and Peter’s eyes slit open. Wade is looking at him softly. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

Peter nods without thinking too hard, puckering up his lips. Wade chuckles and leans down, pushing their lips together. He can feel Wade smiling against his lips. It’s nice. He loves Wade’s smile.

It’s not heated, or leading towards something. Peter is reminded of the time they took a midnight walk. He pulls himself up so Wade’s head isn’t craned down anymore. They share tiny kisses, peck after peck, then Peter straddles Wade’s waist. Wade’s hands go to Peter’s hips, holding onto him and Peter rests on his elbows next to Wade’s head. This way, they can kiss longer, but the kisses aren’t deep. Not yet. There’s something stirring in Peter’s chest, warm and bright, but not consuming.  _ Not yet. _ There’s so much potential there that Peter has to pull back. Wade’s breath puffs over his lips.

“You okay?” Wade asks. 

“I-I don’t know,” Peter says honestly. He has no way to describe what’s going on inside him. He has to blink a few times, overwhelmed.

“Do you want to stop?” Wade is frowning in concern.

“No,” Peter says quickly. He knows that for sure: he doesn’t want Wade to stop. Then before he or Wade can say anything more, Peter initiates a kiss, deepening it right away. Wade’s grip tightens on Peter’s hips, holding him close. Peter starts grinding against him, arousal slowly building in his gut. It’s so much easier to focus on the heat in his gut instead of his chest. Peter  _ knows _ what the heat in his gut means.

Wade’s hands trace up Peter’s body, pushing the hoodie up, and Peter breaks away long enough to pull it over his head before going back to making out with Wade. This is why he invited Wade over yesterday. He’s just feeling weird because he hasn’t cashed in on the sex yet. They always have sex. Peter’s feeling weird because they haven’t done it yet. 

Just as Peter thinks that and starts to really get into his makeout session with Wade, Peter swears he can hear a knock on the door, but he isn’t sure. Peter pulls back, putting his finger over Wade’s lip to keep him quiet when Wade makes a confused noise. 

There’s another knock, this time more insistent, almost pounding. Ice runs through Peter’s veins. He wasn’t expecting guests. The only people who show up unannounced are– “Peter?” a familiar voice calls through the wood. 

Peter’s stomach drops. “Fuck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! hope it was worth the wait!!
> 
> Hopefully the Friday chapter will be ready to go, but I have to write that one (an extra chapter guys!) If it isn't ready by Friday, I will do the same thing, I promise. I am working on it immediately! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! I love to get them and it keeps me motivated! Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) for more real time updates! I will try to keep everyone up to date on there about what's happening! 
> 
> Everything will get back to normal after this week! Idk why it's gotten so messed up!! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's at the door?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! I am here and we are BACK ON SCHEDULE! and i am _so excited_ because this chapter didn't exist a few days ago! This is the fastest I've ever written, but I think that this is a huge, huge necessity for this story. And everyone can thank my wonderful, amazing, beautiful beta/editor sarahenany for without her, this chapter would not exist! If you want to send her any kudos, I will absolutely forward them to her! I so badly wanted to give her coauthor credit because i feel like she is so integral to this chapter's creation! Although she _refused_ because she didn't technically write anything :( Just edited this to the marvelous state that it's in now. 
> 
> So please, if you loved this chapter, send some love sarah's way! She deserves so much love.
> 
> that being said, i hope y'all aren't disappointed with who's at the door <3 
> 
> This chapter was one of the hardest and easiest things I've had to write in a while. It flowed, but god did it stab me in the chest.... enjoy <3

Peter leaps off of Wade, rushing to his closet to put  _ something _ on. Wade sits up on the bed, leaning over and grabbing his jeans from the ground, sticking his legs through them. “Is that–?” he whispers. 

“Yes,” Peter whispers back, pulling one of his own hoodies on first. 

There’s another knock on the door, louder this time. “Peter, we know you’re in there. You’re not cool enough to have plans on a Saturday.” The person is starting to sound impatient. Why does she always sound impatient?

“Maybe he’s at Wade’s place,” comes a second, much friendlier voice. He shouldn’t be surprised they’re here together. That’s about how lucky Peter is.

The person scoffs. “Yeah, no.” 

Wade stands up and gets his shirt and hoodie on so fast that Peter has to wonder if he has superspeed. Peter jumps into a pair of sweatpants and goes to the door. “Peter, wait–” Wade calls after him. 

It’s too late, though; the door is already open. Ned and MJ are standing there, MJ looking annoyed and Ned looking nervous, but determined. “What do you guys want?” Peter asks flatly, trying not to be too annoyed. Well, he’s not trying that hard. It’s mostly an impulse for good manners that Steve taught him, but his friends just cock-blocked him. Peter thinks he’s entitled to a little rudeness.

MJ rolls her eyes. “Right, like you have better things to do,” she says, pushing her way inside, but then she stops a few steps into the apartment. Her demeanor changes. It gets a little softer. “Maybe you actually did.” Her tone is gentle, teasing. Peter didn’t bother to watch MJ walk in; he’s staring at the floor, cheeks turning pink. He knows exactly what MJ is talking about. “Mr. Wilson, I presume,” she says, amused. 

“Wade’s here?!” Ned asks excitedly, brushing past Peter. 

“Please come in,” Peter mumbles, turning around and trying to brace himself for what he’ll see. He wants to stall some more, but he can’t hang Wade out to dry like that. He hasn’t even prepared Wade for dealing with his friends. It’s not fair to just throw him to the wolves. At least they aren’t crowding Wade, but he looks uncomfortable. His shoulders are tense and drawn high, his feet shoulder-width apart like he’s primed to make a quick getaway if he needs to. Wade isn’t cornered, but he sure looks like it. 

“Mr. Wade–I mean, Dead–Mr. Deadpool,” Ned stammers, being held back by MJ. She’s got the collar of his shirt in one hand.

Wade inclines his head in acknowledgement, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. It takes Peter a moment to realize that Wade isn’t showing any of his scars, not even the ones on his hands. The shadow of his hood is completely concealing his face from everyone. “Peter, you should’ve said you had company,” MJ says, giving him a wicked smile. “We coulda come back later. You want an hour?” 

Peter’s blush deepens. He tries not to show how embarrassed he feels being caught like this. They weren’t even naked! Well, not totally. No one saw anything. They’re just assuming stuff and making everything weird. Peter clears his throat. “Wade was just heading out,” he says, his voice more confident than he feels, giving Wade an out. He doubts Wade wants to stay here to listen to his friends’ opinions.

Wade’s shoulders tense, coming up, but he nods. “Yeah, overstayed my welcome,” Wade says, quickly moving around the room to the door, keeping a fair bit of distance between himself and Ned and MJ.

“I doubt Peter thinks you could overstay your welcome,” MJ purrs. 

Wade’s shoulders get higher as he shoves his feet into his shoes. “MJ, stop,” Peter says firmly, opening the door and stepping outside with Wade. 

“It was nice meeting you guys,” Wade says quickly over his shoulder before Peter can shut the door behind them. Ned and MJ say something, but Peter closes the door on them _. _

“I’m so sorry, Wade,” Peter says quietly, not wanting his nosy friends to eavesdrop through the door. He feels so embarrassed. Why are his friends so embarrassing? 

Wade shrugs, shaking his head. “No worries, baby boy. I get it.” Something’s shifted between them and Peter hates it. Everything feels wrong and he has no idea what it is. Wade’s tone feels  _ wrong _ , like he’s hiding something from Peter and Wade’s always been so open with Peter. He still can’t see Wade’s face. 

“I wasn’t expecting them to come over today,” Peter offers quickly, terrified of the silence between them. “I mean, they do drop by uninvited sometimes, but they usually text.” Peter’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t looked at his phone all day. Maybe they did message him to warn him. “I’m so sorry, Wade.” 

Wade shrugs again, this time rubbing the back of his neck. His hood gets knocked back a bit and he can see the bitter smile Wade has on his face before it’s covered in shadows again. “Sometimes things just happen, I get it. Sorry I stuck around for so long.” 

Peter shakes his head before Wade is done speaking. “I wanted you here.  _ You _ were invited,” Peter says bitterly, pouting. He crosses his arms over his chest. “We didn’t even get to…” He lets his complaint trail off. Peter needs to get his head out of the gutter; he had a good time with Wade last night even if they didn’t get to have sex. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry we were interrupted,” he tries instead. At least that doesn’t sound so bratty. 

Wade tips Peter’s chin up and Peter can see his eyes. Something relaxes in Peter’s chest. Wade is smiling gently. “I’m sorry, too, but sometimes things happen.” Peter’s pout deepens. “Make it up for next time?” 

Peter perks up at the thought, nodding. “Kiss on it?” he asks, batting his eyelashes. 

Wade smirks and kisses him. Peter smiles, putting his arms around Wade’s neck and kissing him deeply. This feels right. Peter has no reason to rush, so he lets the kiss linger. He wasn’t expecting guests, so Ned and MJ are being the rude ones. They can wait a few more… minutes. 

Or not.

Peter’s door swings open and he pulls away from Wade, glaring at the open door. He doesn’t move out of Wade’s arms, though. “Oh,” MJ says, blinking, foot raised like she was about to take a step outside. “I thought you ran away.” 

“I  _ told _ you he wouldn’t run away without his shoes,” Ned says from somewhere inside.

She rolls her eyes then nods at them. “As you were,” she says, shutting the door behind her. MJ doesn’t seem to be bothered that she’s interrupted Peter’s Wade time  _ again _ in less than twenty minutes. Peter feels so angry. Why are they here? Why do they keep on interrupting him? 

But Wade doesn’t need any of that anger. He takes a deep breath to calm down, smoothing his hands over Wade’s chest. “Sorry,” he repeats. “I should really go back in there before they take over.”

“Isn’t it your name on the lease?” Wade asks. 

Peter huffs, smiling despite himself. “Like that would stop MJ.” He shakes his head, going to his toes to give Wade one last kiss. “See you?” he asks, looking up at Wade with wide eyes. 

Wade swallows and nods, squeezing Peter’s hips once before letting go. “Yeah, you got my number.” 

Wade turns and walks away. Peter watches, something still not feeling right. Why does everything feel okay when they’re touching, but as soon as they’re apart, something is wrong?

Peter takes a few extra moments to collect himself by taking a couple (or more) deep breaths before facing the music. He steps back inside; MJ is rummaging through his cupboards already, her back to Peter, and Ned is sitting on his couch looking uncomfortable, head down. “You couldn’t’ve called?” Peter asks them, closing the door a little too hard behind him. Ned jumps. Okay, maybe he slammed it.

“We did,” MJ says, mouth full of something, unconcerned at his entrance. Peter isn’t too sure what she’s eating because when she turns around her hands are empty. “We just thought you were still sleeping. We didn’t think you’d be  _ busy.”  _ She says that part with an eyebrow wiggle. 

Peter’s jaw tenses. He usually  _ isn’t, _ most weekends. Sure, he does some longer patrols, but he also spends the weekends catching up and getting ahead on his schoolwork. If he’s not the friendly neighborhood menace, he’s alone in his apartment, sans plans, a very boring existence for his father’s son. 

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want to get into it with them, but he doubts he’ll be able to avoid it.

“We came to talk to you,” MJ says, approaching him and touching his arms gently, “because we love you.” 

Peter frowns. MJ isn’t  _ cold _ , but she’s not  _ affectionate _ . Her touching him without prompting is a little concerning. “Is this an intervention?” He hasn’t been doing anything that would suggest that he’s addicted to anything, or suffering from something. Has he? Have they seen some of his bruises? He did go to class once with a black eye, but that was one time.

“No,” MJ says slowly, rubbing his arms. Peter tenses. That’s really unusual. “This is a… Peter-You’re-An-Idiot friend… ambush.” 

“Ambush?” Peter repeats incredulously, mouth dropping open. 

“Hi, Peter,” comes a third voice... and  _ good god _ . Ned is holding up a tablet with Mary Jane’s face on it. Peter groans loudly. Apparently Mary Jane is joining them live from DC. It’s like a fucking movie.

“I thought you had a lead to follow up on,” Peter snaps at her. 

She shrugs. “Lead was a dead-end. Besides,” she sighs, “I can always spare time for my friends.” 

Peter takes a step back, away from Michelle’s touch. “Is this about Wade?” He doesn’t know why, but the main thing he’s feeling is panic. “No, that’s none of your guys’ business!” Peter says before anyone can respond, shaking his head. He doesn’t want to deal with this… ever! “You can’t just barge in here–” 

“Calm down, Peter,” Mary Jane says. Peter snaps his mouth shut, breathing through his nose. He has no idea what he was going to say next. Hell, he still has no idea what to say next. “We’re here because we think you’re deluding yourself.” 

“Deluding myself?” Peter repeats. 

“Yeah,” Ned chimes in. “Like you’re delusional.” 

“I know what it means,” Peter growls, glaring. Ned ducks his head. “And I am  _ not  _ delusional.” He says that to the group, as if that alone would convince them. Yeah, right. His friends are more stubborn than he is.

“Please,” Michelle scoffs. “You’re  _ absolutely  _ delusional!” 

“About what?!” Peter challenges, tempted to ask everyone to leave already. He’s not sure why he doesn’t. It’s his house. He can kick people out if he wants. Maybe it’s just lingering manners keeping him from kicking everyone out. That doesn’t change the fact that he does not like where he thinks this conversation is going to go. 

“Wade,” all three of them say in unison.

Panic. Panic. Panic.  _ “You’re _ delusional,” he accuses.  _ Yeah, Parker. Great comeback.  _ “Wade and I are just fine! He’s not hurting me and I have fun with him–” 

“Exactly,” Mary Jane cuts him off. “Ned, move us closer.” Ned gets off the couch and joins Michelle and Peter in the middle of the room. Closer, Peter can see the bags under her eyes. He wonders if she’s slept yet, since she tends to forget stuff like that when she’s digging into a story. “You and Wade  _ are  _ fine and he does seem to treat you well. That's why we’re here.” 

Peter is confused now. “Interventions are for when people are being hurt.” 

“This is an  _ ambush,” _ Michelle reminds him flatly. Peter glares at her. She glares back.

“Peter, we’re here because you think you and Wade are  _ only _ having sex,” Mary Jane says gently. 

Peter opens and closes his mouth a bit. He’s not sure what’s wrong with that.“We  _ are _ only having sex,” Peter says. He’s never lied to them about that. 

“Peter, c’mon,” Ned says, still looking a little uncomfortable, but he’s got half a smile on his face like he’s trying to ease the tension. “Even I can tell that it’s more than sex.” 

Peter’s mouth falls open. Ned is a wonderful friend but kind of… not observant. It’s a running joke that Ned would be the last one to notice that he changed his own hairstyle. Michelle nods in agreement. “It’s obvious, Peter. We all have eyes,” Michelle adds, widening her eyes with her fingers. 

Peter scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well you’re all fucking blind.” He stops abruptly: he’s snapping at them. He doesn’t want to snap at his friends. They’re here out of the goodness of their hearts, even if they’re a little misguided with their intentions. Getting angry at them for caring isn’t going to help anyone. But he can’t stand in front of them anymore, feeling exposed. He needs something to do, something to focus on that isn’t their faces. A quick look around the room; the dishes still need to be done. He leaves their little circle and goes to the kitchen sink. Rudely, maybe, but they did drop by unannounced and are spouting outlandish theories–no, outlandish  _ hypotheses _ . 

“Peter, don’t walk away from us,” Mary Jane says sternly. 

He ignores her demand, even if he feels a niggling of guilt at being rude like that, and starts filling the sink with warm, soapy water. “I’m still in the same room,” he says coolly, pushing up his sleeves. It’s not like he has another room to go to unless he wants to hide in the bathroom in his own house.

“Peter, we’re not trying to be mean,” Ned says, standing close to him. “We’re trying to help.” 

“Help?” Peter repeats incredulously. He hates how his throat feels dry and if his hands weren’t wet, they’d probably be sweating. He can already feel sweat in his armpits. “Help me with what? You guys are saying crazy things. I don’t like Wade!” God, he sounds hysterical.

“We never said you liked Wade,” Michelle points out.

Peter rolls his eyes, jaw tensing. “Please.” He starts scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary. “Don’t try those weak mind games. I know you didn’t say it like that, but you’re implying it and I’m not fucking stupid, despite what you think.” He rinses off the plates and sets them in the other sink to drip dry. He’s barely controlling his strength. He wanted to throw the dishes, but who would that help? 

“No, we’re implying that you two  _ like each other,” _ Michelle growls at him. 

Peter laughs sarcastically. Is there really a difference? “Oh, my bad. Guess I really am stupid. Sorry guys.” He washes the glasses and mugs now, trying not to think about who was using them earlier. Memories from their quiet breakfast enter his mind, leaving something warm in his chest. This morning was  _ so good _ . 

“Peter stop,” Mary Jane says sternly. The memories are pushed to the back of his mind. “You’re not stupid, but you are  _ acting  _ stupid  _ and _ rude.” 

“Me? Rude?” Peter asks, voice pitched high. Last are the forks and knives and stuff. He tosses them one by one on the other side of the sink, each one clattering off a plate that Peter would have been sure would shatter under the onslaught, but stays intact.  _ “I’m  _ not the one who came by uninvited and scared out my  _ invited _ guest.” 

“Peter, we said we were sorry,” Michelle says, annoyed, like she can’t believe Peter is  _ still _ talking about that. 

Peter whips around, hands still wet. “No! You made a fucking  _ joke _ , MJ, making Wade  _ more _ uncomfortable! He’s not comfortable around strangers without his suit on!” Could they not see the way Wade was standing? He couldn’t wait to escape! 

“Wade was there?” Mary Jane asks. 

“Yeah, just before I called you,” Ned says, looking pained. “Peter, we are sorry about that. We didn’t think you’d have company. You’ve always been free on Saturdays around this time.” 

Peter’s cheeks heat. “That’s not what’s important.” 

“Hey,” Michelle cuts in. Peter glares at her.”If we made him uncomfortable, we’ll apologize to him, but we actually have to meet him to do that. You’re the one hiding him from us, like you’re  _ embarrassed _ about him!” 

Peter is  _ offended. _ “I am  _ not  _ embarrassed to be seen with Wade! You have no idea what I feel about him!” 

“Then tell us how you feel about him!” MJ yells. 

“Hey guys, calm down–” Mary Jane tries to say. 

“He’s a friend!” Peter yells back, eyes locked on Michelle. Great, they’re yelling at each other now. Michelle and him are probably the most volatile out of the whole group, Peter because of stress and Michelle because she’s an artist and not comfortable with a ton of emotion. “Like you or Ned! Or MJ!” 

“Oh, like us?” Michelle asks rhetorically, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times have you had sex with me, then?” 

Peter reels back. He does not think of Michelle that way at all. He doesn’t like to think that he must justify his attraction to some people and not others. Peter is not attracted to either MJ or Ned and he doesn’t think he needs to explain why. “Wade’s a sex friend! A friend that I have sex with! That’s it!” 

“Yeah, and I’m Tony-fucking-Stark!” Michelle snaps. 

“Don’t bring my dad into this!” 

“Holy fuck!” Michelle says with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air. 

“Both of you,” Mary Jane cuts in, “stop it! You’re friends! Stop treating each other this way!” She sounds like a mother scolding her bratty children.  _ Michelle _ is the one being a  _ child! _

Peter makes a noise of frustration that sounds close to a scream and stomps over to his bed, intending to make it, even if looking at the rumpled mess makes him want to finish that almost-scream. He grabs the blanket and flips it up, trying to get it in some semblance of order. “What? You’re not changing the sheets?” Michelle snipes. “Is Wade waiting at the end of the street for us to leave?” 

“If you  _ must _ know,” Peter snaps, glaring at her, “we were  _ interrupted _ before we could do anything.” 

He’s still glaring at Michelle, but her shoulders drop, like the anger she was feeling left her. “What?” she asks.

“Peter,” Mary Jane says, “I thought you said you and Wade were sex friends  _ only _ .” 

“We  _ are,” _ Peter says in exasperation, wondering why they aren’t  _ getting it  _ yet _. _ Are they choosing to not listen to him? Are they being wilfully ignorant? He gives up on the bed and faces them, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Then why didn’t you have sex?” Mary Jane asks. 

“We were  _ interrupted.” _ He  _ should _ be telling them that they don’t  _ have  _ to have sex every time, but that’s been their whole relationship and what he’s been trying to sell to them. Wade is a friend, yes, but they hang out  _ and _ have sex. Like a package deal. 

Michelle is gaping at him. Peter doesn’t like that. “Peter, you’re never up early on Saturdays,” Mary Jane says carefully. “And it looked like there were enough dishes for  _ two _ people.” Peter’s face turns red. “Peter, did Wade have breakfast with you?” 

Peter’s jaw feels tight. “Yes,” he admits. He doesn’t know why it feels so hard to admit. He also doesn’t know why he admits it, but admitting to breakfast isn’t anything, right? Everyone likes breakfast.

Michelle and Ned blink at him. “Did he  _ come over _ for breakfast,” Michelle asks, “or did he _ stay _ for breakfast?” 

“What’s the difference?” Peter asks defensively, anger bubbling again. 

Michelle gives him a flat look. “Don’t play dumb, Peter. I know you know the difference.” 

Peter swallows, looking at the floor. He hates lying so much. “Wade was here for breakfast,” he admits quietly. That should be enough of an answer for them.

“Oh my god, he spent the night and you didn’t have sex?!” Michelle asks loudly, like they’re starring in some overdone soap opera and a big secret has just been revealed. Peter thinks his face might explode from how much blood is in it. At least Ned looks uncomfortable as well. 

“Michelle,” Mary Jane chides. 

“No, no,” Michelle shakes her head, voice hard. “What is a sex friend doing here if you’re not having sex? And Peter has been so  _ insistent  _ that he and Wade  _ only _ have sex. If they didn’t have sex, I think we deserve to know why.” They really aren’t entitled to know that.Thankfully, when Michelle looks at him again, she asks a different question. “When did he get here, Peter?” 

Peter wraps his arms around himself. “Yesterday afternoon.” 

Silence stretches between them. Mary Jane is the first one to speak. Her voice is kind. “What did you and Wade do last night?”

Peter squirms, feeling all their eyes on him. “I… I invited him over and I forgot I had a paper due. He stuck around to wait until I was done... “ That’s not weird, right? No. It’s not. It wasn’t weird. They had a good time.

“Wait, what paper?” Ned asks, fear in his voice. 

Peter shakes his head. “You’re not in that class.” 

Ned lets out a sigh of relief. “When did you finish it?” Mary Jane asks. 

Peter shrugs. He remembers the exact time, but do they need to know that? “Late. It was late…” he says. “...we just… fell asleep.” His description doesn’t sound like nearly enough, but that’s more than enough information for his nosy friends. 

“So if Wade came over in the afternoon and you were busy with your paper–” Peter’s only realizing now that Mary Jane is using her reporter voice. He’s being  _ interrogated _ – “what did Wade do until, as you said, ‘late’?”

“He just hung around,” Peter says evasively.

“Doing what?” Mary Jane prods. “I’m assuming you were busy for a few hours, at least. What did Wade do to entertain himself? You’re usually a pretty attentive host, so I doubt you would have ignored him without offering him something to do.” 

Michelle snorts and Peter knows  _ exactly  _ what she’s thinking. An “attentive host” and Wade? She’s got her head in the gutter.

Peter takes a deep breath. “He watched TV and… andhesetupmybookshelfandorderedsomefood.”

“What was that?” Michelle asks. 

“Wade ordered us some food,” Peter repeats, knowing that’s not what Michelle meant, but it is the last thing he said. 

“Us?” Mary Jane asks.

“You know what I meant,” Michelle says at the same time, her eyes going to the now set-up shelf. “He set up your bookshelf?” 

“Yeah, it’s not like it was hard,” Peter says, feeling exposed. It was nothing. Wade insisted on doing it for him. It’s not weird. They’re reading into it. 

No one speaks right away and it makes Peter even more uncomfortable. “Why are you guys being so weird about this?” Peter asks defensively. “It’s just a bookshelf! You’re acting like he fucking cut down the tree himself and lugged it here from Canada on his back. It’s just a shitty shelf from IKEA. It’s been sitting here for weeks.” 

“Oh, Peter,” Mary Jane says. Peter doesn't like her tone, how she sounds sorry for him. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Anger swells through him. 

“What are you guys doing here anyway?!” Peter snaps. He’s done talking about this. If they want to read into this stuff,  _ fine _ , but he doesn’t want to entertain it anymore. “You guys are making everything weird! What I’m doing with Wade is not  _ weird!” _

“We never said it was weird!” Michelle yells back, her hackles rising. “ _ You’re _ the one acting weird because of your stupid fucking feelings and your fucking stubbornness!” 

“Wade is a friend!” Peter screams, so tired of everyone’s fucking opinions already. “We just  _ happen _ to have sex!” 

“Bull-FUCKING-shit!” Michelle yells. 

“Michelle!” Mary Jane tries to say, but Michelle isn’t having it. 

“Wade is your fucking boyfriend!” Michelle declares, stabbing a finger in Peter’s direction. “He’s going above and beyond friendship, and he treats you good, Peter! So we don’t want you to fuck this up becuase you’re fucking scared of what your parents will think!” 

Peter reels back, eyes wide. “Where the fuck is that coming from? My dads don’t run my life! I can do what I want!” His heart is beating wildly in his chest, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “And if I wanted to date Wade, my dads could get the fuck over themselves! But Wade and I aren’t dating!”

“Why don’t you?!” Michelle challenges, her eyes on fire. 

_ “Because he’s a friend!”  _ Peter roars, turning and tearing his blankets from the bed to the floor and stomping off to pace. He hates that his apartment is so fucking small because he can’t get away from his friends. “He’s been a better friend than all of you!” 

Michelle freezes, the air going cold. “Excuse me?” 

“Wade isn’t fucking nagging me about something ridiculous! He believes me when I tell him something–” Peter’s heart constricts at that– “ _ and  _ he does things for me that you guys would never do!” 

“Like what?” Michelle asks angrily.

“Michelle, please,” Mary Jane says. 

“Just because we won’t suck your cock, we’re bad friends?” Michelle snaps. “Fuck you so hard, Peter.”

Peter’s cheeks burn. He knows he should feel sorry for what he’s said, but he can’t stop. “Don’t be such a fucking pervert! I mean how Wade sets up my furniture, feeds me, and does my fucking Christmas shopping because I was too busy with exams!” 

Silence falls between them and Peter sucks his lips in. He didn’t mean to say that last thing. No one knows about that. Michelle is looking at him like he’s the biggest idiot she’s ever seen in her life. Ned’s eyes are wide and Mary Jane’s face is… surprisingly neutral. It could be a trick of the camera that Peter sees pity in her eyes. “Peter,” Mary Jane says gently. “We aren’t trying to antagonize you, we want to stop someone from getting hurt. If you continue to deny what’s happening, someone  _ will _ get hurt.” 

“Oh are you psychic now?” Peter asks snidely. He doesn’t want to say that, but it’s what comes out. It feels like the best way to end the conversation.

“I can’t fucking deal with this,” Michelle says, shaking her head. “I’m out. If you want to be a fucking ass, fine, but be an ass not aorund me and don’t you dare call me before I call you.” She turns and stomps towards the door. 

“Michelle, wait!” Mary Jane calls after her, but Michelle isn’t deterred. She stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind her. Ned winces. Peter does too, wondering if the whole building shook with that slammed door. “Don’t let her go away like that! Someone go get her!” Mary Jane commands frantically.

Ned shakes his head. “MJ needs to cool down and she won’t if we bug her,” he says sadly. 

“Well if you’re not going to go after her, I’m going to call her,” Mary Jane huffs, ending the Skype call before anyone can argue. 

Ned sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair and locking the tablet before tucking it under his arm. He gives Peter a pained look. “We’re only here to help, dude,” he says. 

Peter feels instantly guilty, but he’s not about to fold. He feels like if he gives any leeway, no one will believe him when he says there’s nothing between him and Wade. He can’t let up for even a second. “Seems like you guys want to meddle,” Peter snarks, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at Ned, hoping for him to snap back. 

“Isn’t that what friends do?” Ned challenges lightly, smiling weakly. Peter pauses, eyes wide. “Aren’t friends supposed to step in and help friends when they think someone is going to get hurt?” 

Peter does not like this direction of conversation. It’s too calm. “Did they drag you into this?” 

Ned shakes his head, looking hurt. “No, I asked for their help.” No, Ned isn’t hurt. He looks  _ guilty _ . “Those two are so much better with words and feelings and… I didn’t expect things to go like this, but you’re pretty deep in denial, huh?” 

Peter can’t believe this whole thing was Ned’s idea. Ned is the last person Peter would expect to try to meddle. “I am  _ not _ in denial,” Peter says firmly. 

Ned smiles sadly. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” 

Peter groans.”You know that’s not fair to say! If I deny I’m in denial, you just think I’m in denial, and if I acknowledge it, I’m not in denial anymore! It’s a catch-22!” 

“So are you?” 

“Am I what?” Peter asks, patience wearing thin.

“Not in denial anymore?” 

Peter glares. “I’m not in denial,” he growls.

Ned holds up his hands and takes a step back. “I hear what you’re saying, dude–”

“But you don’t believe me,” Peter interrupts. He sighs. “Why don’t you guys believe me? Wade is just a friend.” He has no idea why he’s not yelling anymore.

Ned shrugs. “Probably because you’ve always been really bad at lying.” 

“I’m not lying,” Peter grinds out between his teeth. He cannot believe that Ned is still here.

“Yeah, you are,” Ned says easily, like Peter couldn’t break him in half without a second thought. That makes Peter pause. He’s never been violent, never tried to solve his problems with violence. Why is he thinking that way now? “You’re lying to me, the MJs, yourself, but most importantly, you’re lying to Wade.” Peter thinks he might throw up. “It’s obvious that he cares about you and whether or not you feel the same, what you’re doing… it feels like you’re stringing him along.” 

Peter wants to be angry. He wants to yell and scream and deny everything Ned just said, but he can’t. No words come, no anger comes. Instead he feels hollowed out and like he could cry. “Get out,” he orders, voice hitching.

Ned nods. “Yeah, that felt like a breaking point.” He goes to the door without hesitating, but stops in the doorway, hand on the knob, halfway outside the apartment. “You’re still my friend, Peter. This is a fucking mess right now, but I’ll still be there for you if you need it. Same with the MJs, even Michelle. She’ll make you grovel, but that’s because she cares.” 

“I said: ‘get out,’” Peter repeats, barely holding back tears. How can Ned be okay after essentially accusing Peter of leading someone on?

“Talk to you soon, buddy.” Then he’s gone. 

Peter only takes a moment to go to the door and slam the lock shut. No one is getting in now. Then he collects his blanket from the floor and hides underneath it on his bed. He can smell Wade on his sheets, but it’s faint. Peter’s never smelled Wade on his sheets before, but he’s never been around long enough to leave an impression. 

He cries quietly, hating himself for everything he said to his friends. He knows that they were trying to help him, even if they’re seeing things that aren’t there. They’re good people, they mean well, and they didn’t deserve to be treated like that, but Peter feels too raw to apologize right now. 

He checks his phone: 7 PM. He’s not sure how long his friends stayed, or how long he’s been hidden, but there is a message from Michelle that was sent at 11:38 AM. Well, a couple of messages.

MiJ: wake up   
—We’re coming over   
—prepare yourself

There’s also a message from Wade, which Peter ignores. He can’t bring himself to read it yet, everything feeling too raw right now and his mind such a mess. Peter squeezes his eyes shut and hides his phone in the blankets somewhere. It’s maybe a little early to go on patrol, but he needs to get out of this place.

He throws off the blanket and gets changed into his Spider-Man outfit. Crime may be slow this early in the day, but swinging through the city has always helped clear his mind. And he desperately needs to clear his head.

* * *

“Spidey!” 

Peter tenses, but continues to swing, flipping around to spot who called him. He’s unsurprised to see Deadpool waving at him. Peter has been able to avoid Wade for a few hours, but he knew he couldn’t avoid him forever. They have been working together a lot lately and Wade is really good at finding Spider-Man. Honestly–he checks the time–two hours is a long time for Deadpool not to show up. 

Peter debates on pretending he didn’t hear Wade, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he twists in the air and changes his trajectory to join Wade on the roof. He flips a couple of times–because he can–and sticks the landing. He can hear Wade clapping. 

“Bravo!” Wade cheers. “Tens all around!” 

Peter bows dramatically. “Thank you, thank you.” He already feels a little lighter being in Wade’s presence. The swinging didn’t help too much. If anything, things might be more muddled.

Wade skips over to him and Peter has an odd moment of cognitive dissonance. He knows that Deadpool is Wade, but seeing him in uniform and armed to the teeth… it doesn't  _ look _ like Wade. His Wade is all bright smiles and blue eyes, everything underneath his uniform and not so… visibly armed. “You’re out early, Spidey. I hope you left some bad guy butt for me.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. Even with a bit of a disconnect between Wade and Deadpool in his mind, Peter’s mind isn’t racing so much anymore and his heart hurts less. Maybe Wade gives off some sort of radiation that helps Peter feel better. “There’s plenty left for you, no worries. I just had nothing better to do, so I came out early. I’ve mostly been swinging around and trying to clear my head.” 

“Clear your head?” Wade repeats. “Everything okay?” Peter tilts his head. Wade usually doesn’t ask Spider-Man about his personal life. It’s not that Peter doesn’t think he cares, but it’s one of the ways Wade respects his secret identity. “I mean, I’ll listen if you want to talk about it. No specifics necessary, but I like to think we’re friends.”

Peter sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s hard to reject Wade’s offer of comfort, to keep up the professional distance between them that Wade is offering. When did that happen? When did Wade become a comforting presence for him? “We are friends, Wade. It’s my other friends that are the problem.” He can be vague with his problems. It will be nice to get it off his chest.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Peter shrugs, trying not to blush even though Wade can’t see it. “It’s nothing bad, just annoying. Very middle school levels of ‘you like so and so’ when I don’t…” Well, that’s a  _ huge _ understatement about the fallout he had with his friends. It’s also really minimizing the concerns his friends brought up.

“Oh yeah, that does sound annoying,” Wade agrees. 

“Thank you!” Peter lets out a relieved sigh, throwing his hands in the air. “Finally, someone who agrees with me!” Why does Peter feel so weird?

Wade chuckles. “Well, I’m ride and die, ya know.” He puffs out his chest.

Peter shakes his head fondly. “I’m pretty sure it’s ride  _ or _ die.” 

Wade snorts, turning his nose up. “I know what I said.” 

Peter giggles. His explanation to Wade might’ve been lacking a lot of the details, but just mentioning it like he did lifts a weight off his heart. It’s annoying, like Wade said. Peter getting upset was totally justified. “Okay, so anything new with you? Since you’re listening to my problems.” It seems only fair that Spider-Man listens to Deadpool’s woes.

Wade’s demeanor changes immediately. He stops looking at Peter and his shoulders are tense and he’s looking down at the rooftop. “Wade?” Peter asks, worried.

Wade rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. “I probably shouldn’t. Don’t worry about it, Spidey.” 

“No, Wade, I wanted to hear it if it’s bothering you. We’re friends,” Peter urges, putting a gentle hand on Wade’s arm. Hopefully Wade’s problems will help Peter distract himself from his friends’ baseless accusations… and some of the stuff he said to them. 

Wade exhales through his nose. “It’s about Peter.” 

Peter freezes. Oh no. No no no no. He shouldn’t be hearing about this, but how can he get Wade to stop after he insisted? “Y-You’re still seeing him?” Peter asks. It’s not an odd question for him to ask, as Spider-Man. Sometimes Wade will come to patrol like he’s high–if he was a cartoon, he’d be floating with hearts for eyes–but he never gives Spider-Man any details. He’ll just say he had some afternoon delight and leave it at that, if he says anything at all. Now that Peter thinks about it, this is the first time Wade’s brought up Peter by name since he thanked Spider-Man for his advice to apologize. That was months ago.

Wade nods. “Yeah, I see him sometimes still–” Peter almost wants to laugh.  _ Sometimes _ , he says, like they don’t see each other  _ at least _ three times a week– “whenever he calls me, mostly.” He kicks the ground nervously. “I might’ve screwed that up, though.” 

Peter blinks. “What makes you say that?” 

“Last night… or this morning, I guess,” Wade says, looking bashful even though Peter can’t see his face. “It started yesterday. I went over to hang, like he asked me to, but he had an assignment, but he let me stay. We ended up just falling asleep, but I’ve never been happier.” 

Peter wishes he could disappear. He  _ definitely _ shouldn't be hearing this. His friends’ words swirl in his head. “Then this morning,” Wade continues with a sigh, “I stuck around, just wanting to be near him and I overstayed my welcome.” He laces his fingers behind his head and leans back. “His friends saw me.” 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Peter says awkwardly, trying to pretend that he wasn’t mortified by the situation, but probably not for the reason that Wade thinks he’d be mortified. 

Wade’s arms fall to his sides, swinging lightly. “It was, Spidey,” he argues without heat. He takes a deep breath. “It’s one thing to play pretend and live like you actually have a chance with someone and it’s another thing entirely to be seen by the important people his life and know he’s trying to find the most polite way to tell you to fuck off.” Wade spits out the last part, like it’s bitter on his tongue. 

“What? No, Wade,” Peter pauses. He can’t speak for himself. Well, he can’t speak for Peter right now. He’s Spider-Man. He can't say that he likes Wade’s company or his personality or the fact that he’s a human space heater.  _ Spider-Man  _ wouldn’t know any of that. Peter has never resented wearing the mask so much before in his entire life. “Don’t think about yourself like that. You have to give yourself some credit.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Wade grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Peter can feel him glaring. 

“No, it’s not. You can’t assume the worst, Wade.” 

“He hasn’t even responded to any of my messages,” he argues, hurt. 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “He could still be with his friends, or busy doing other stuff.” He’s glad he has the mask on to cover his blush. Wade’s messages would be burning a hole in his pocket if he had his personal phone on him. Instead it’s burning a hole in his bed.

Wade shakes his head, defeated. “It feels different this time.” He paces a couple of times in front of Peter, looking at the ground. “Do you promise not to laugh?” 

Peter nods immediately. “Of course. I’d never laugh at you.” 

Wade stills, swallowing loudly. “I…. really like Peter–” Peter freezes entirely. Ned’s words echo in his head:  _ it’s obvious that he cares about you. _ He feels like he could throw up– “I know I don’t have a chance with him. It’s just a stupid crush, but I’ll stay until he throws me out.” 

“Wade…” Peter says weakly.

“Or...er… I said that and like I believed it for a while, but now that it’s probably happening, I’m not ready to let him go. I thought any time with him would be perfect, you know? Like that whole ‘l-word and lost rather than to have never l-worded at all,’ but there isn’t enough time. I want more time with him.” 

Peter is 73% certain he’s going to throw up. L-word? Peter doubts he’s talking about lesbians. How did this get so messy? What can he do? “Have… have you told Peter this?” God, he feels so fucking stupid asking that question. Obviously he hasn’t told Peter. Not because he is Peter, but Wade has asked Spider-Man to not laugh at him.

“No,” Wade snorts. “And I never will. Peter deserves better than anything I can offer.” 

Peter wants to vehemently disagree. Wade deserves so much better than whatever Peter is doing to him. He should have listened to his friends. He shouldn't have been such an ass. Everything is so messed up now.

But Peter can’t tell Wade that, not without giving himself away. He should tell Wade. Wade doesn’t deserve this, but he can’t give away his biggest secret so easily. But Wade… He opens his mouth. “Maybe… you should wait for him to reach out to you first?” Peter suggests. He’s a coward and he feels like a coward.

“You think so?” Wade asks, sounding hopeful.

Peter swallows and forces himself to nod. All he’s doing is buying himself time, time that is no doubt only going to hurt Wade more. “Yeah. I mean that’s what you’ve been doing until now, right?” 

“Minus a time or two, but yeah.” 

Peter nods again, the motion feeling easier, but he finds it harder to stop himself. “Let him contact you first, Wade. You’re a good guy.” He clenches his jaw, stilling his head. “You deserve better than to be some rich kid’s plaything.” And he believes that with his whole heart.

“Hey,” Wade chuckles, sounding half-amused, half-serious. “I still like him, so maybe watch what you say about him?” 

How can Wade say that so easily without feeling sick? Peter can’t hear it without feeling like all his organs want to exit through his mouth. “Sorry, Wade,” Peter apologizes quickly, even if he doesn’t regret saying what he said. Wade does deserve better than being some rich kid’s booty call. Oh god, Peter has turned into one of those rich kids. “You’re my friend and the thought of him hurting you, even indirectly, upsets me. He should be more aware of how awesome you are.” 

Wade stares at him. “Why are you saying such nice things?” 

“Because I care about you, Wade. And I don’t want to see you hurt.” Which is impossible now. Peter knows that no matter what he does next, he’s going to hurt Wade. “And I said some things to my friends that I should apologize for. I’m just… yeah.” He clears his throat. His eyes feel wet, but crying in the mask is always a bad idea. “How about some patrol to get our minds off things?” he suggests. He’s such a coward.

“Sounds like a plan,” Wade agrees, sounding chipper, but like he’s also concerned. Peter nudges him playfully, hoping to dissolve some of the tension between them. It works a little bit, Wade loosening up and pushing back.

And they take off, Peter’s heart heavy in his stomach.

* * *

After patrol, Peter forces himself to read Wade’s messages. His eyes sting as he reads them.

💀:Sorry about your friends seeing me ♡   
—Next time I’ll go out the window so they don’t see me ♡😙

Peter reads it three times and starts to cry. He sends quick apology messages to Ned and Mary Jane. Peter was so wrong. He asks them to extend an apology to Michelle, too. She won’t want to talk to him until she’s ready, which is fair. Then he goes back to Wade’s message to stare at it despairingly. He’s at a complete loss on how to respond to Wade. Every possibility he comes up with will only end with pain.

_ “No, we’re implying that you two  _ **_like each other._ ** _ ”  _

How did everything get so messy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? 
> 
> Please leave a comment, or kudos, but also don't forget to send some love Sarah's way. This story only sparkles because she shines it for me <3 
> 
> Follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) for me freaking out and offering excuses for why I haven't done stuff yet <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday everyone! 
> 
> Good luck! <3

Peter is waiting for his video call to be answered, arms crossed over his chest and his leg bouncing rapidly. He messaged MJ asking if she was able to talk. She said she could, but she wanted to see his face. So he’s calling her, sitting at his kitchen table, laptop in the center, his cell phone propped up on it. He’s trying to stay calm, but he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. He hasn’t spoken with any of his friends since their ambush. His laptop is dead and he’s been too frazzled to find the charger for it. 

The call connects. There are a few shaky moments before the camera settles and Peter can see MJ clearly. She’s dressed in a STARK INDUSTRIES sweater he’s sure she stole from him that’s at least two sizes too big for her, baggy sweats that almost cover her feet, and her long red hair up in a bun. It looks like she might’ve napped on it and never bothered to retie it. She’s sitting cross-legged on her couch, writing something in a notebook braced on her thigh. Peter frowns. “I didn’t know you had glasses,” he says. 

She laughs and touches them, looking into the camera. The glasses are simple: black square frames that fit her face well. “Yeah. Preventative, I guess. From staring at my computer too much. I usually wear them when I have a lot of reading to do,” she explains, putting her pen down on her notebook and setting it aside. 

“They look nice,” Peter tells her honestly. They suit her. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, stacking some papers. Now that Peter’s looking, he notices that she’s surrounded by papers, a book open next to her hip. “You don’t have to… I thought you said you could talk,” he says, not wanting to take her away from her work. 

“I can.” She holds up a piece of paper that Peter can’t read. “This is some fluff piece I’m working on for the school.” Peter knows she’s lying to him, but he doesn’t call her on it. Partly because he’s feeling selfish–his thoughts and emotions are scattered right now–and wants to talk to his friend, and partly because he knows that she’ll shrug him off anyway if he calls her out. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, sighing.

She sighs in annoyance. “I’ve told you, you’re not bother–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’m sorry for the other night.” 

MJ frowns and looks at her phone next to her knee. “That wasn’t even a week ago,” she says. “We ambushed you. I thought you’d be mad for at least a week.”

Peter tightens his arms around himself and looks away, slumping in his chair. “I haven’t talked to anyone since then.”

“No one?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Not even Wade?” 

Peter can feel his cheeks heat up. “No…” Peter’s barely been able to look at the text messages Wade sent him, barely able to look at Deadpool when they patrol together. Technically, he has seen Wade, but not as Peter, not since Wade told Spider-Man his feelings. He feels… so guilty whenever he thinks about Wade now.

“Peter, you can’t cut Wade off because your friends are assholes. You’ll never have anyone,” she chastises. 

“I know  _ that,” _ Peter scoffs. They share a small laugh. Peter takes a few moments, the silence that falls between them is comfortable. He picks at a thread on his pants, biting his lip. “I have to tell you something, MJ,” he says, still not looking up.

“Are you okay, Peter?” 

He shrugs. “It’s… it’s a doozy. And I don’t know how to tell you.” He has no idea how to frame this without giving too much away. Will MJ believe that he’s been catfishing Wade and  _ that’s _ why he knows stuff he shouldn’t? Peter has had no one to talk to about the whole Wade situation and it’s gotten so messy. He can’t tell his parents, obviously, not only because they wouldn’t approve of him seeing Wade, but also, he can’t slip up about Spider-Man. Ned and Michelle know about Wade, but he can’t tell them about Spider-Man, even accidentally. He loves them both, but he’s only known them for about a year. So he has to talk to his childhood friend. At least if he does mess up and let the Spider-Man thing slip, she won’t say anything. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “Wow, this is harder to talk about than I expected,” he says with a heavy sigh. 

“Is this about Wade or Spider-Man?” MJ asks, sounding bored. 

Peter freezes, staring at his phone with wide eyes, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Who said anything about Spider-Man?” he asks, trying to sound casual and confused. Cool. Calm. His voice is a little squeaky though.

MJ doesn’t look fazed though, or like she’s upended Peter’s whole life with a simple question. She even  _ rolls her eyes _ , like Peter is  _ overreacting _ . “You’re stuck because this has something to do with Spidey,” she says easily, shrugging and reading something on a piece of paper she picks up. “I’m going to save you the anguish of telling me yourself.” 

Peter grabs his phone and dives under the covers on his bed. “How do you know?” he whispers, holding the phone too close to his face. 

She gives him a flat look. “I’m an investigative journalist, give me a little credit.” Peter frowns at her. She sighs, head falling back. “Fine,” she says in defeat, “you weren’t excellent at hiding your tracks when you first started, bug-boy. I saw your costume and shooter designs. Then some spandex dude was swinging through the air, calling himself Spider-Man. And really? Spider-Man?” 

“I was fifteen!” Peter argues weakly. He rubs his eyes, letting his phone drop to the mattress. “You’ve known the  _ whole time _ and you never said anything?” 

“I thought you’d tell me when you were ready, but me knowing is probably why we’re still friends. You ditched me so much and your excuses are  _ lame, _ Parker. Makes a girl feel like you don’t wanna be around her,” she teases, pouting. 

“I’m so sorry, MJ,” Peter says quickly. He feels a little lighter now that someone knows, but that’s quickly smothered by guilt. “I didn’t think it was safe and… do you think anyone else knows?” 

She shrugs. “Ned and MJ haven’t said anything and I”m sure if your dads found out, you’d know. We were fifteen, Peter. I doubt they would’ve let you do any heroing.” 

“That’s fair…” Peter mumbles. “I’m still really sorry, MJ. It’s not that I don’t trust you–” 

She waves him off. Peter relaxes a little bit and curls up on his side, his phone in front of him, still safely hidden under his covers. He props it up on its side, careful not to move so the phone won’t move. “I get it, Peter. Don’t freak out,” she says easily. “I cover all sorts of nonsense here and there are some powerful people who hate heroes. Not even just the random supervillain here, which is less common than in New York, but like specialty groups and senators with anti-hero platforms.” She shrugs. “It makes sense to keep your ID quiet.” She smiles at him. “Now that that elephant is out of the room, what’s on your mind? You want to come clean to your parents?” 

Peter shakes his head. He should feel relieved, but he feels something lodged in his throat. “No, um,” he coughs, trying to clear his throat. “Uh… Wade told Spider-Man that he liked Peter and I have no idea what to do.” He says it quickly and in one breath. It’s so much easier to say it like that instead of coming up with some convoluted story about catfishing or something. 

MJ seems confused, frowning at him. “That sounds like good news, Peter,” she says slowly. “You can stop lying to yourself. We all know you like Wade and you should make it official. And soon. We want him over for board game nights.” 

“Wade–Deadpool told  _ Spider-Man _ ,” Peter repeats, giving it more emphasis. Yes, he’s said it, but clarifying it any more feels impossible. MJ is smart. She should be able to understand.

“Yeah, and you’re–” She stops speaking suddenly, understanding dawning like horror on her face. “Wade doesn’t know, does he?” 

Peter bites his lip and shakes his head. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark-Rogers–” he winces; he deserves that– “ _ why _ doesn’t Wade know?” 

“I-I sought him out as Peter,” Peter says quickly. He knows this is going to sound stupid, but he’s going to tell her everything. “It was supposed to be  _ one night _ , MJ!” He throws off the blankets, sitting up, phone in one hand, the other tearing at his hair. “And then he told my pops and… it’s all so confusing!” Is that really everything? It feels like there’s so much more that he isn’t saying.

“Peter!” MJ says. Peter forces himself to look at her. He’s not surprised that she looks upset. “Peter, what on earth are you thinking? How can you talk about yourself with Wade? I can see you not being able to avoid it maybe once or twice, but Wade likes half of you and considers the other half one of his closest friends.” Peter’s stomach gets heavier with each word she says. “You’re close enough friends that he probably told you his feelings about  _ ‘Peter’– _ ” she uses some aggressive air quotes– “because he never planned to tell Peter because  _ you, Peter _ ,  **_insist_ ** that you are just  _ fuck buddies.”  _

He bites back the urge to argue that he’s been saying ‘sex friends’ and not fuck buddies, but do semantics really matter at this point? “MJ, I know,” Peter whines. “Please don’t yell at me. I already feel bad enough.” 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” she says while shaking her head, some of her hair falling out of the bun, “but you don’t get out of this because you feel bad.  _ You’re _ in the wrong here, and  _ your actions _ are going to hurt Wade.” 

“MJ, please,” he begs, his chest aching. 

“I can’t believe you would do something like this, Peter,” MJ continues, disappointed. “You’re so empathetic.”

Peter bursts into tears, unable to keep from crying anymore. “I know! I’m so sorry! It was a lapse of judgement, MJ,” he sobs. “I  _ never _ wanted to hurt Wade.” 

“Well, it’s gonna hurt, Peter, especially when you tell him. And you  _ have _ to tell him. The longer you wait, the more it’s going to hurt.” 

Peter wipes his face with the back of his hand, pulling his knees to his chest, breath shaky. He’s hiding his face in his knees. His phone is next to him. “I don’t want to lose him, MJ.” 

“I’m sorry, Peter, but this is a really shitty time for you to be honest with your feelings,” she says levelly.

“I’m not supposed to fucking  _ like  _ him!” Peter snaps, head shooting up and legs kicking out, a misplaced burst of energy. He feels like he could punch something or scream until his lungs come out of his mouth. “It was supposed to be one or two nights, but his humor and his heart and  _ his fucking blue eyes!” _ He takes a couple of deep breaths, energy leaving him. It takes him a minute to realize he’s still crying. He takes a couple of shaky breaths. “I fucked up, MJ.” 

“Yes, you did,” she agrees. And, ouch, that hurts, but it isn’t uncalled for. Peter swallows, jaw tense. “Look at me, Peter.” It takes Peter a moment to find his phone and look at his friend. She looks serious, but her eyes are full of sympathy. “You have to tell him, Peter. Soon. Tonight if you can.” She shakes her head, all of her work forgotten around her, her attention fully on Peter. “Rip it off like a Band-aid. Or a scab.” It’s probably going to feel more like ripping off a scab, leaving an open wound. Peter takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, lip wobbling. “Give Wade my number, too.” 

“Why?” Peter asks. 

“It’s not ideal, but I know your secret and he’ll need to talk about this,” she explains. It makes sense, even if Peter doesn’t like the idea. Peter wants to help Wade feel better, but he’s the one who’s hurt Wade. Or going to hurt him. “I’ll talk to him. I can be unbiased.” 

Peter swallows. He doesn’t like the idea of MJ knowing every way that he hurt Wade, but Wade does deserve someone to talk to. “Okay,” he agrees. He also knows that if he doesn’t do it, MJ will get in contact with Wade herself and Peter doesn’t want her risking herself like that. “He might not want to talk to you.” 

“I want him to have the option.” 

Peter nods in understanding, throat still tight. “I’m so sorry, MJ.” 

“I’m not the one who needs the apology, Peter,” she says coolly. Peter flinches. He hopes he hasn’t entirely ruined their friendship. She takes a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry for acting so cold. I’m not happy about what you did, but you’re still my best friend, Peter.” Peter sobs, covering his mouth so he doesn’t make a complete fool of himself. “You can call me, too.” 

Peter wipes his face again, relaxing a little bit. At least he still has MJ. “Thank you, MJ. I don’t deserve you.” 

“You do, Peter,” she says firmly. “This is a lapse in judgement. I know you regret it… but I won’t be as forgiving if this happens again.” 

“Thank you, MJ,” Peter says. “It won’t. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

She smiles sadly at him. “I love you, Peter.” 

“Love you, too,” Peter sniffs.

“Talk to him soon, Pete.” 

“I will,” he promises, and he means it. 

They say their goodbyes and hang up. Peter feels numb and wrung out when he ends the call and he stares at the black screen for a few minutes, debating on what he should do. Then he goes into his messages and opens up the thread with Wade. He has to do this before he loses his nerve.

P: Can you meet me somwhre?

He doesn’t wait for Wade to respond before he starts getting changed. Maybe it’s bad to assume that Wade will come when he calls, but Peter can’t think about that. He jumps into his Spider-Man outfit, trying not to cry already. This is going to suck. 

* * *

Peter knows he should’ve waited for Wade’s response before heading out. He shouldn’t assume that Wade would jump because Peter told him to. But…. looking back, that’s been their entire relationship: Wade giving and Peter taking and taking  _ and taking _ . Peter hates that he did that to Wade. No one deserves to be treated like that. He also hates that he lied to himself for so long, somehow convincing himself that the explosion of butterflies in his gut was from sneaking around with someone instead of an indicator of something more. 

What Peter hates most, more than anything, is that he’s realizing his feelings too late. It’s probably selfish (although what’s new with that? Peter’s only been selfish with Wade), but all Peter can think about is how Wade won’t want to talk to Peter ever again, or Spider-Man. Not that that reaction would be unwarranted. Peter went too far. Still, Peter doesn’t want that. A life without Wade seems… dull.

“Missing high places?” a familiar voice asks. 

Maybe ten minutes ago, Peter would’ve jumped at Wade’s sudden appearance, but he’s so resigned to the horribleness of this exchange that he can’t muster the energy to jump in shock. He can look over his shoulder and Wade is dressed as Deadpool. Peter sent another message asking Wade to come in costume and he’s glad to see that Wade listened. Wearing the mask has always made Peter feel safe and a little less breakable. He hopes it’s the same for Wade. “Huh?” Peter asks, mind foggy with guilt. 

Wade gestures around vaguely. “You grew up in a skyscraper and now you’re on the top floor. This building is pretty high up. Not Avengers Tower high, but maybe you’re feeling homesick?” 

Peter’s chest tightens. Wade is concerned for him. Of course he is. Wade is just that kind of guy. Peter is going to miss him so much. “I don’t miss the Tower. Not that much anyway,” Peter tells him truthfully. Might as well start somewhere, right? 

“Okay… how did you get up here, baby boy?” he asks. “The roof access was triple locked from the inside.” 

It’s a fair question. Peter came here as Spider-Man, wearing a backpack stuffed with civilian clothes that he’s put on over his Spider-Man costume; a large zip-up hoodie and a pair of loose black sweatpants. He took off the mask and gloves when he got here though, waiting for Wade while the wind bit at his cheeks. Wade can’t see the boots he’s wearing since his feet are swinging over the edge of the building. 

Tears spring in Peter’s eyes without warning. He wishes he could see Wade’s face right now. “I’m so sorry, Wade,” he chokes out, the ‘Wade’ almost getting stuck, like he doesn’t deserve to call Wade by his given name anymore. 

Wade jumps at the sudden tears and quickly crosses the roof, kneeling beside Peter. His hand is warm and big, rubbing a circle between his shoulder blades. “What’s wrong, baby boy?” He sounds so worried and it makes Peter cry harder. Peter doesn’t deserve his concern. 

With great effort, Peter pushes Wade’s hands away from him. Wade makes a confused noise, but doesn’t try to touch Peter. Peter has no idea how to tell Wade, but he can’t keep on dragging it out. This confession is long overdue. He pulls the mask and gloves from his pocket, showing them to Wade. 

Wade tenses and Peter can  _ see _ his walls going back up. “You’re with Spidey now?” Wade asks, voice thick. 

“What? No,” Peter responds quickly. 

Wade gives a wet, loud laugh, but he doesn’t sound amused. He backs away slightly from Peter. “It’s okay, bab–Peter. I knew you’d… you’d find someone better.” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “I guess he told you so you could give me a clean break.” He’s still moving away and Peter can’t let him go thinking the wrong thing. 

“No, Wade,” Peter says, getting to his knees and shuffling towards him. “ _ I’m _ Spider-Man.” 

Wade goes still and Peter stops moving as well, holding his breath. Then Wade laughs loudly for two very uncomfortable seconds then stops just as abruptly, the silence echoing. “That’s not funny, Peter,” Wade says darkly.

“It’s not a joke,” Peter says and stands up. He doesn’t want to tower over Wade, but he’s doing this right. He undresses quickly, taking off his hoodie and pushing down his sweatpants, leaving him in his uniform. It feels weird being in costume without his gloves or mask on, but he forces himself to look at Wade’s eyes. “I’m Spider-Man,” he repeats, the words easier and harder to say the second time. Wade stares at him. “I swung up here,” he says as some sort of explanation, putting his glove back on and shooting a web off to prove his point. “I’m so sorry.” 

Wade gets to his feet without a word and starts briskly walking across the roof, away from Peter. Peter’s heart jumps into his throat. It can’t end like this. “Wade, wait–” Peter calls after him, chasing him– “I’m sorr–” 

Wade spins and Peter almost runs into his chest. He has to back away because Wade takes a couple of menacing steps forward. Peter backs away, not scared exactly, but knowing better than to try to be in Wade’s space right now. “I heard you,” he growls, dangerous. “You’re  _ sorry.”  _

“I am, Wade,” Peter cries, stupid tears on his face. He’s desperate to reach out and touch Wade, to feel him under his palms just once more, but he knows that he’ll probably lose a hand if he tries. Wade is  _ angry. _

“Peter, I can take a lot of shit, and I have, and I can handle being dumped, but playing with my feelings?” Wade asks, his anger giving way to hurt. 

Peter’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head. Playing with his feelings? Where’s that coming from? “No, Wade, I never–”

“Who did you do this with?” Wade snaps, cutting Peter off. But he doesn’t give Peter a chance to respond. “I hope you guys got a good fucking laugh at my expense.” 

Not being able to see Wade’s face is agonizing because Peter can only picture the worst things in his mind. His words sting, cutting Peter deep. Peter has no idea what he’s talking about. “No one!” he yells, hoping to get the point across. “I never made a joke out of any of this!” 

Wade scoffs. “Sure.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I knew this was too good to be true,” he says, mostly to himself. Peter’s heart breaks all the more. 

“Wade, I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, like it’ll be enough. Wade flinches. “I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“You did, Peter,” he whispers, any anger gone. Peter hates what he’s picturing Wade’s face to look like, but he’s suddenly grateful for the mask. He has a pretty vivid imagination, but he’s sure that whatever his mind comes up with can’t compare to the hurt on Wade’s expressive face and seeing it would kill Peter instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, the word sounding hollow to even his ears. He means it, with everything he is and will be, but they’re just words. They aren’t enough. They can’t undo what’s been done.

“I really like you, Peter,” Wade says softly, “but I guess you already knew that.” The words are a bullet to Peter’s heart. “I… I can’t.” Wade sighs, shaking his head. He starts walking away, this time at a more normal pace. “Forget my number, Peter.” 

Peter is barely holding himself together. “Wait,” he calls out, unable to move. Thankfully Wade stops, but he doesn’t turn around. The chill of Wade’s cold shoulder is more cutting than the January air. He sniffs and pulls out his phone, his personal phone that he brought for this very reason. “I’m sending you a number,” he says, voice cracking. “It’s for my friend MJ.” 

Wade scoffs.  _ “Your  _ friend?” 

Peter nods, even if Wade can’t see it. “It’s not ideal, I know, but she told me to give it to you if you need to talk. She’s… she’s not on my side for this. No one is. Not even me,” Peter says, hitting send to send the number to him. “I know I fucked up, Wade. I know I did. I’m… I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, looking up from his phone. “I'll delete your number.”

“Good.” That’s all Wade says before he leaves. 

Peter feels like his chest has been ripped open. He collapses to his knees and sobs, hating that he’s crying so much.  _ Wade _ was the one who was hurt. Peter doesn’t deserve to cry. 

He’s not sure how much later it is, but sometime after Wade left, with blurred vision and numb fingers, Peter selects ‘yes’ on the prompt asking if he wants to delete a contact. It feels like a stake through what’s left of his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade Wade Wade Wade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your calendars are not wrong, it is not Friday, but I thought it might be cruel to hold out on you, so I've asked my beta to work with me to get these particularly angsty chapters out as quickly as possible <3 there's no for sure schedule, and if there's a break between chapters, i will ALWAYS post on either friday or tuesday. But for now, you get a wednesday update because... it's sad and i don't want you guys to be in anguish for too long <3
> 
> also you might've been able to guess because i just responded to like all your comments. Please keep it up, even if the chapters do come faster <3 I love to read them and show them off <3 
> 
> TW: this is a Wade POV, so there's all the normal warnings to come with him: vulgar language, violent ideation, and suicide. There's nothing explicit, so I think you should be okay, but I feel like I need to warn you anway.
> 
> This also means that the boxes are here  
>  ** _[white]_**  
>  _{yellow}_  
>  _Wade's Thoughts_ \--no punctuation around it
> 
> PS. I love Canada

Wade wakes up bleary, sore, and in a fog of confusion. It takes a few minutes for his brain to kick back online, stuttering to start like a cold car. He feels dried out and hungry; he can’t remember the last time he had anything to eat or drink, but his healing factor is keeping him kicking anyway. Cruelly, if you ask Wade. 

_ {No one did, jackass,} _ Yellow chimes in. Great. Consciousness means these losers again.

**_[Hey!]_ ** White protests.  **_[Don’t be mean!]_ **

“Shut up,” Wade growls. He’d normally take a bullet nap to shut everyone up for a bit, but he thinks being left alone would be worse than trying to tune out the voices himself. “No one asked your opinion either.”

_ {You’re a coward,}  _ Yellow spits.  _ {Hiding out in fucking  _ **_Canada_ ** _ because your  _ **_feewings_ ** _ got hurt.} _

_ “You’re a coward,”  _ Wade grumbles, stumbling through the trashed apartment to the fridge. His legs can barely keep him up, but there’s also crap everywhere. Wade doesn’t know how long he’s been in, apparently, Canada, of all places. Yellow has a special contempt for the Great White North that Wade doesn’t really understand, or care to understand, but the point is that Yellow wouldn’t lie or joke about being in Canada. 

It takes his eyes a moment to focus when he opens the fridge. The light is almost blinding, but once he focuses he can see it’s a cheap yellow light in an older model fridge. All that’s inside it is a packet of hot sauce. Nothing substantial, that’s for sure. 

_ {You’re a fucking idiot.} _

Wade rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He could call for delivery, but he doesn’t care, and he doesn’t know the address, other than ‘Canada’ which isn’t helpful for delivery. Maybe he’ll die from starvation, but he hates dying that way: he’s always confused and he’s more zombie-like than he’s comfortable with. He’ll zombie-shuffle to food and eat mindlessly until his brain has enough energy to actually start thinking again. It’s not a pretty picture. Still doesn’t make him want to solve his food problem any faster. 

He stumbles to the living area and faceplants into a couch. He wishes, not for the first time, he could die permanently. Would make everything so much easier. 

_ {A little melodramatic, don’t you think?} _

**_[Hey! Heartbreak is worse than death!]_ ** White argues. Great.  _ White _ is defending him. That’s gotta mean good things.  **_[And we should know what’s worse than death!]_ **

_ {Don’t compare apples to oranges,}  _ Yellow shoots back.  _ {This heartbreak is nothing in the grand scheme. A few months in the face of eternity? Wade needs to get over himself.} _

Wade knows he’s wallowing, he doesn’t need Yellow to point out the obvious. He also knows that wallowing isn’t helping… but: “If I have infinity, I can afford a week of feeling sorry for myself,” he argues, voice muffled by the couch.

_ {It’s been three weeks.} _

Wade sits up. “Huh.” He looks around the room. That probably explains why he’s so hungry and why everything is such a mess. “Three weeks in Canada?” 

_ {Fucking Quebec, Wade. You don’t even know French!} _

“Don’t need to know French to be miserable,” Wade grumbles and spots his phone, half-buried under some old wrappers. He can’t remember eating, but from the state of things, it looks like he’s been doing it sporadically at least, which is decent. No zombie-Wade in the near future, it seems. 

He picks up the phone and it’s completely dead. Wade wonders how long it’s been a brick and how many missed calls he has. He’s not super popular, but Weasel might’ve been trying to give him a job. Three weeks is a long time to drop out of contact without being kidnapped. 

He sighs and pushes himself off the couch, starting to look for some decent clothes. He needs to buy a charger, so he might as well brave the grocery store, wherever that is.

* * *

Apparently Wade has hidden himself in a very Francophone-centric area and it made errands that much harder to tolerate. His appearance (and smell, honestly) already made people wary of him, but not speaking the language didn’t help. He stomps back into the apartment after getting lost for an annoying twenty minutes, grumbling about how languages are stupid. Yellow would normally be laughing at him, but they’re just as pissed as Wade is. In fact, they’re so pissed that they’ve kept quiet for the last hour. It’s almost worth how aggravated Wade feels to get the bit of quiet. White hasn’t shut up, but it’s more like white noise (ha) and easy to ignore. 

First thing’s first when he gets inside: he plugs his phone into an outlet in the kitchen then gets to work unloading his measly amount of groceries. Most of it goes into the freezer, microwave meals and all that, but nothing’s thawed, the cool air outside keeping everything nice and crispy. He could make something, but that feels like too much effort and he has a couple more days before he dies from starvation, so it’ll be okay. 

**_[Check your phone!]_ ** White yells.  **_[Maybe Peter messaged us!]_ **

_ {We’re here to forget Peter,} _ Yellow growls.  _ {Although Wade’s refusal to do anything  _ **_fun_ ** _ –} _

“I’m not going on a spree,” Wade cuts in tiredly. 

_ {Why not?} _ Yellow whines.  _ {You don’t have to impress anyone anymore! Spider-Man already thinks you’re a joke!} _

Wade rolls his eyes and turns on his phone. Normally when Wade felt this many emotions, he would kill his way through a small crime empire, for funsies, but he feels more at home hiding under a rock this time. Maybe that says something about him. Maybe he’s grown as a human. Yellow scoffs in his head and mutters something about growing like a fungus. 

Wade shakes his head, his phone buzzing with notifications as it turns on. There are a couple of missed calls and a voicemail from Weasel, and a text from Peter.  **_[Oh! What did he send?]_ ** White squeals.  **_[Is it ‘I’m sorry’ nudes?! I hope it’s ‘I’m sorry’ nudes!]_ **

“It’s not,” Wade says, even if that might sound like a nice surprise. No, he already knows it’s the number Peter sent him the last night they saw each other. “I told him to delete my number.” 

**_[If he deletes your number, how will he send nudes?]_** White demands. 

_ {You’re a moron.} _

Wade lets the boxes argue while he stares at the message. He debates on deleting everything he’s ever gotten from Peter: a clean break. That’s the best. He could work anywhere in the world, he doesn’t have to go back to New York, even if he loved it there. The Avengers would like him out of their city. SHIELD won’t like that he won’t have a base of operations, as it were, but since when has Wade ever done anything to make SHIELD happy? 

He should just get rid of this phone altogether, blow it up or something, get a new number and go on a “suicide” mission to take his mind off things… but he’s staring at Peter’s messages and he’s having a hard time getting rid of them. Sure, Peter did a shitty thing, but Wade can’t believe that everything was fake… 

_ {You’re being too easy on him,}  _ Yellow butts in.

**_[No! He was crying! That has to count for something!]_ **

_ {An Oscar,} _ Yellow deadpans.  _ {This isn’t a movie. Delete his number and move on.}  _

“Are you implying that I deserve better?” Wade asks incredulously. Sure, Yellow hasn’t said it, but that’s the subtext. 

_ {No, but even you don’t deserve what he did.} _

“It sounds like you care about me,” Wade teases. Yellow makes all kinds of sputtering noises and starts to insult Wade quite creatively. That’s better. It’s easy to push the noise to the back of his mind, White chiming in at some point. Wade wonders what he should do. He should try to bury memories of Peter under dead bodies and napalm, but he can’t help but feel there’s something incomplete about the picture he has about Peter. In order to get a clean break, Wade has to know exactly what he’s breaking away from. 

“I’m going to call her,” Wade tells the boxes, cutting into their rant easily.

_ {WHAT?!} _ Yellow screeches.  _ {Don’t  _ **_engage_ ** _!} _

“I should talk to someone,” Wade argues. “You two aren’t any help and I doubt Weasel would be any better.” Wade chuckles for a second. “His advice would probably be coming to Canada.” 

Yellow gives a snort of disgust while White laughs. Wade pulls up MJ’s number and stares at it for a moment. This probably isn’t a good idea, but she’s the only other person who knows and, despite everything, Wade isn’t about to out Spider-Man’s identity. He takes a deep breath, picks up the phone and unplugs it. Twenty percent is enough. “Before I change my mind,” he says to himself, hitting dial. 

The phone starts to ring and Wade’s stomach flips. Maybe this was a mistake. He’s about to hang up when someone picks up. 

_ “Mary Jane Watson,” _ a woman answers, professional and… normal. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Wade’s voice catches in his throat. This was definitely a mistake. 

_ “Hello?” _ she says.  _ “Is someone there?” _

Wade’s mouth opens and closes. He needs to say something, but he can’t. 

_ “I don’t have time for this.” _

“MJ,” Wade says before she can hang up, sitting heavily on his couch. 

There’s a pause.  _ “Wade?” _

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve called–”

_ “No, no,”  _ she cuts him off.  _ “I’m glad you called.”  _ She pauses, as if measuring her next words.  _ “I was worried.” _

Wade barely suppresses a laugh. “Why would you be worried about me?” 

_ “Well, it’s been a few weeks and you’re important to Peter.”  _

That feels like a punch to the chest. He should hang up, but it’s nice to hear a voice outside of his head. Maybe he’s a masochist. “Yeah, right… important.” He chuckles weakly, clearing his throat. He thinks he wants to cry, but he might be too dehydrated. “I don’t know why I called.”

_ “Do you want to talk?” _ she asks gently. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He really can’t put his finger on why he even called in the first place. He knows he had some sort of reason before he hit ‘call’, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember it now. “It feels weird to talk to you. You’re Peter’s friend.” 

_ “Yes, but I can be unbiased,”  _ she says quickly.  _ “I won’t tell you to give Peter another chance or justify what he did… I know it helps to talk and I'll listen without judgement and you don’t have to censor yourself.”  _

“You’re a better person than me,” Wade says, running a hand over his head. He can’t imagine being so kind to a friend’s ex, especially one that he’s never met. Well, Wade isn’t really an ex since they never dated. Former fling, past fuck buddy, those are probably better titles. 

_ “Don’t say that, Wade. If I can call you Wade?”  _

“Yeah, sure,” Wade shrugs. It’s not like she hasn’t called him Wade before and his identity is hardly a secret. Last time he checked his wiki page, it was right there. Maybe it’s off now, since it seems to pop up every now and then. “I don’t know what to say to you, though.” 

_ “Well… if it’s not too invasive, why don’t you talk about where you’ve been for the past few weeks?” _ Wade chews his lip, not sure if he should say anything that could make it easier to track him down. Not that he couldn’t disappear again, it’s just a pain in the ass to have to do that.  _ “I won’t tell Peter.”  _

“I can’t ask you to keep secrets from your friend, MJ,” Wade says, despite any feelings he has towards Peter. He isn’t about to try and pit friend against friend. He might not be a hero, but he isn’t evil. 

_ “I won’t be, Wade,” _ she says quickly and with confidence that Wade believes implicitly.  _ “Honestly, I’ll probably tell him you called, but anything you tell me will be kept between us. It’s the best I can offer in this situation.” _

Wade shakes his head. All things considered, it’s the best offer he’s going to get. “I’ve… been wallowing, really,” he admits, surprised at his own candor. He runs a hand over his head and leans his elbow on his knees. “I really liked him, MJ. I feel like I’ve been played. I have no idea what to do.” 

_ “No one blames you, Wade. This is a weird situation and no one can tell you how you’re supposed to act here.” _

_ It’d be a lot fucking easier if someone could, _ Wade thinks bitterly to himself. He won’t say it out loud though. MJ doesn’t need that kind of pressure. Her listening is more than he should get. “How’s Peter been?” he asks, deciding to get it over with. Yes, he needs to make a clean break ( _ that _ was the reason!), but his traitorous heart is still hanging on to Peter.

There’s a short pause before she speaks. Either she’s shocked at the question, or doesn’t want to tell Wade what’s going on.  _ “He took a couple of days off from patrol, but he threw himself into school. I think he’s looking for a job just to fill the time.”  _

“Oh?” Really, it’s all he can say. 

_ “Yeah. He’s been… trying to distract himself, you know? Keep busy so he doesn’t have to think.”  _

Wade frowns. “Is that so?” Can Peter even stop thinking? 

There’s another pause, but it feels loaded this time.  _ “Wade… his place reminds him of you and he misses you.” _ Wade freezes, not expecting to hear that at all.  _ “He can’t move out, though. He doesn’t want his dads to get suspicious since he loved that place when he moved in.” _

“Why does he miss me?” Wade asks in one breath, but that seems to be the only breath he has. His lungs aren’t filling up again.

Another long pause.  _ “He…. he loves you, Wade. That’s why he came clean about… everything…”  _ She sounds so calm, like she’s not saying anything new.

Something hot and ugly burns through his chest. He can handle being used in relationships, he has been before, but this is cruel. “You said you wouldn’t tell me to give him another chance–” he growls.

_ “What? Wade, I’m not!”  _ she says, sounding panicked.  _ “I’m just–I thought I was repeating information you already knew! I swear!” _

Wade scoffs. This was a mistake, for sure. “Yeah, right. Don’t call me back.” He hangs up before MJ can say something else. How dare Peter continue to play with his emotions! And using his friend to do it! Has he no shame?!

_ {You’re a fool, Wade.} _

**_[Hanging up was rather rude. She sounded cute.]_ **

“Shut up,” Wade snarls, pacing his kitchen after plugging his phone back in. He doesn’t know why he does. Weasel will understand if he stays radio silent for another three weeks. He doesn’t need to be connected to the rest of the world.

_ {–a damned fool!}  _ Yellow continues, unimpeded.  _ {What the hell did you expect by talking with one of  _ **_his_ ** _ friends? Peter  _ **_loves_ ** _ you? What a fucking joke! Why would anyone love you?!} _

**_[I believe her!]_ **

_ {You’re a bigger moron than Wade!!} _

**_[No need to be mean,]_ ** White pouts.

“Shut up,” Wade repeats a little louder.

_ {You’re really so  _ **_naive_ ** _ to think that there’s anything better for you than this life, Wade? That you’re better than some dumb weapon?? Fucking grow up.} _

Wade tries to control his breathing, leaning over the counter, lungs burning.  **_[Don’t be so fucking cynical. Good things do happen.]_ **

_ {Yeah, to  _ **_people_ ** _. Wade is a  _ **_weapon_ ** _. That’s why he was created. Don’t for a single second think he’s better than that!}  _

“SHUT UP!” Wade yells, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples. This has gone on long enough. He’s not some love-struck teenager! He’s a grown-ass man! A mercenary! A grown-ass man mercenary  _ with a job! _ He doesn’t  _ wallow _ . 

He picks up his phone again, almost ripping it from the wall. It’s still barely got a charge, but he unplugs it and starts pacing angrily. He dials another number, putting this call on speakerphone. It feels like he can yell more freely with the distance between his mouth and the phone. He should’ve done this three weeks ago instead of wallowing in fucking Canada.  _ “Hello?” _ comes the answer after four rings. 

“Peter,” Wade grits out.

_ “Wade?”  _ He sounds shocked.  _ “Why are you calling me?” _ Why does he sound genuinely shocked? Oscar-worthy, that’s for sure.  _ “Is everything okay?” _

Pretending to care is the last star for Wade. He feels like he could breathe fire. “I just got off the phone with MJ,” he states, each word clipped and dripping with disdain. “But I’m sure you already know that.” 

_ “Oh, you actually called her? I hope it helped.” _

Did he not hear Wade? Wade is shaking now, teeth hurting from how tight his jaw is. “I would  _ appreciate _ it if you stopped playing with my feelings,  _ Peter,” _ Wade growls, spitting his name.

_ “What?” _

“And using your friend to do it, too!” Wade adds with volume, throwing his hands into the air. “I  _ never _ thought you’d be that kind of person, but I’d like you to stop!” Oh no, his anger is cold in his chest. It’s not anger anymore, but hurt. Wade hates it. Hates it so much. He’s angry, not sad. No matter how much his eyes sting, he’s  _ angry. _

_ “Wait, wait, wait,” _ Peter says quickly, his confusion forcing Wade’s tongue to still.  _ “What are you talking about? Playing with your feelings? I’ve never done that.”  _

“Oh, so you’ve never used Spider-Man to get me to reveal my Peter-related feelings, huh?” Wade asks, jaw loose, like he might start crying at any moment. “Probably laughed about it later with your friends.”

_ “Wade, please!”  _ Peter injects desperately.  _ “Yes, I betrayed your trust by talking with you about me as Spider-Man, that wasn’t cool at all, but I  _ **_never_ ** _ mocked you or your feelings with my friends! I know I don’t deserve it, but  _ **_please_ ** _ trust me on that.”  _

Wade’s stomach twists. Peter sounds like he means what he’s saying.  _ {Don’t be a dumbass, Wade,}  _ Yellow cuts in.  _ {Kid had no problem lying to you before, so what’s changed now?} _

“Stop using your friends to manipulate me, Peter,” Wade says, but he doesn’t remember thinking those words. It’s like his mouth is moving on its own and he sounds scared and hurt. No, Wade is angry. He’s not scared or hurt. Angry. Only angry. 

_ “Fr–what did MJ tell you?” _

“She told me you lo – ” Wade cuts himself off, the words catching in his throat, knees feeling weak and voice strained. He clears his throat, trying to regain some composure. Love? Who is he kidding? “She told me you liked me,” he says feebly. He should be angry, but he sounds desperately hopeful. No. No. He’s angry.  _ Angry.  _

Peter sucks in a sharp breath. Wade can’t believe it. “This isn’t high school, kid. I’m not about to come crawling back because you told me to.”  _ Not again, _ he adds mentally. “So just stop. Forget about me and start seeing someone your daddies would approve of.” 

_ “I do like you, Wade,”  _ Peter says, voice small, but Peter may as well have been yelling because those words echo around Wade’s head, making his ears ring. Wade can’t breathe or think of a single thing to say.  _ “I didn't want to tell you because…. it’s not a reason or a justification for hurting you and… it wasn’t fair to tell you that when it… when I came clean. That wasn’t about my feelings… it was about how I hurt you. I’m sorry. I never told MJ to tell you that–I’m sorry.” _

Wade’s emotions hurt too much right now, roiling and sharp, poking at all his organs. Peter’s words echo like a klaxon in his mind. “Fuck you, Peter,” Wade manages to choke out, throat surprisingly tight, like his body is trying to choke him. He hangs up and blocks Peter’s number. Calling him was a mistake. 

* * *

Wade isn’t sure how much time passes after his call with Peter. He can’t remember anything after that call, but he wishes he could forget the call.The air smells like blood, old and new. Maybe he died. In one hand he has a gun that looks a little dirty and his other hand he has his phone. He’s sitting next to an outlet, the thing plugged in. It’s fully charged, but he doesn’t unplug it. 

The phone opens to a text thread with MJ. There are only two messages. 

W: When did he tell you?   
MaJ: b4 he came clean.

Wade closes his eyes and lifts his other hand, the one with the gun in it. Maybe this time he can get Peter’s voice out of his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope that it helps??? maybe it won't, but i hope you liked it!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pain???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know it's technically the same day and I posted in the early hours of the morning, but this is done and... why hold out? It's not a super long chapter, but the next one might not come out until Friday :( but! I think you'll like it, or hopefully you do... okay I'm going to stop writing because i'm making myself nervous... 
> 
> sorry it's not as long as the others!

“Peter!” 

Peter jumps, blinking a couple of times. “Huh?” 

His dad sighs, closing down the hologram they were working on together. Peter thought he would visit his dads to get his mind off Wade, but it’s not really working. It’s been a few days since Wade’s call and he’s been thinking about it non-stop. He thought helping his dad out in the lab would force him to focus on something else, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. He thought a lot of things would get Wade off his mind: school, his friends, getting a job, but nothing is working. Before Wade’s call, he could at least pretend that it was. 

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Tony asks, giving Peter all his attention. Peter squirms under it. Since this whole thing happened, Tony has been putting in extra effort to not jump to conclusions and listen to Peter. Peter appreciates the effort, he really does, he just wishes his dad wasn’t trying so hard when all Peter wants to do is disappear. Besides, realistically, for all the effort Tony is putting into being more level-headed, Peter has a good idea how Tony would react if he told him about Wade. It’s not just because of the Wade thing either. Yeah, Tony would have a fit, but Peter would have to come clean about Spider-Man as well and  _ that  _ would go over well. So he has to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s nothing,” Peter says, ducking his head, wishing the hologram was still up. At least then he could play around with it. 

“I don’t really believe you, Pete,” Tony says casually, taking a seat on one of the stools, giving Peter a look of concern. “You said you got a job… is it something going on with work?” 

Peter wants to laugh. The job is barely a job. He got a freelance photography job at the Daily Bugle. Sure, it pays, but he only gets paid to bring in photos. Jameson is unpleasant, but he only yells at Peter when he wants something and he seems to like Peter’s work. It’s not the worst job ever. “No, it’s fine.” 

“You sure?” Tony asks. “I’ve heard Jameson can be a real piece of work. I can talk to him if he gets out of line.” 

Peter shakes his head before his dad is done speaking. “No, please don’t. Let me fight my own battles. I like that he doesn’t treat me any differently because of my dad.” He shrugs. “And it’s just something to fill my time.” 

“Well, you know you can always come into R&D at Stark Industries. You don’t have to work at a newspaper.” The way Tony says ‘newspaper’ is amusing. Peter is sure that it’s leftover from how he teases Steve about insisting on having a real paper copy of the news every morning. 

“I know, but I like the photography. It works a different part of my brain, so I’m not doing science all the time.” 

Tony sighs. “Fine. I get it.” He shakes his head. “So what’s bothering you? You haven’t been able to focus the entire time you’ve been here.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and looks away. He wishes he could ask someone else. MJ is nice, but that’s only one perspective. 

“Okay… I’m not saying you  _ have  _ to tell me,” Tony says, sounding very much like he wants to know what’s going on. Tony would call it being engaged while Steve would call it Tony being nosy. “But I know talking about it can help.” 

Peter rubs the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” And there isn’t. Not with Tony. 

“Okay,” Tony says easily, opening up another file on his worktable. It looks like something for SI. Peter could probably help, but he doesn’t have to. Tony starts humming and flicking some things around, trying to look busy. Peter knows it’s an act. 

Peter bites his lip. The thing with MJ isn’t just that she has one perspective, but that she needs a break from him. She never told Peter in so many words, but Peter knows that she’s not happy with him. Peter got a livid call from her after Wade hung up on him and she tore into him for not telling Wade everything. He can distinctly recall her saying  _ “Coming clean means coming 100% clean, Peter!” _ But he doesn’t agree with her. Telling Wade about his feelings right after confessing to lying to him and betraying his trust feels far too manipulative to Peter. He wanted to tell Wade about his feelings, but telling him at that point would’ve been a mistake. Would Wade take it as an excuse? Just because Peter likes Wade doesn’t mean everything is okay. 

… maybe he needs a second opinion. 

“I’m having a bit of a tiff with MJ,” Peter says. And it’s true. He sort of yelled back at MJ when she berated him for hiding his feelings. He is not happy with how much he’s fighting with his friends. Michelle has barely started talking to him again.

“Michelle or Mary?” Tony asks, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Mary,” Peter sighs. 

“Alright, so what’s up?” Tony asks. Peter hesitates. How can he say this? “Is this a lovers’ spat?” Tony wiggles his eyebrows. 

Peter grimaces. “MJ? Dad, we’re not like that.” MJ is like his sister.

Tony holds up his hands and his face says ‘sure, I  _ tooootally _ believe you.’ Peter frowns at him. “It was just a question,” he says quickly, smirking. “Now, tell me what this non-lovers’ spat is about.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. His dad has been teasing him and MJ about being a couple since they were thirteen. It’s not like he’ll suddenly stop now, not until one of them starts seeing someone. MJ is too focused on her career right now and this whole situation with Wade is keeping Peter’s love life a secret. “It’s kind of stupid…” It’s really not, but Peter has half an idea for an angle where he can give the situation, but not exact details, that might work. “We’re probably fighting because we were both cranky and we were just disagreeing about this and it got bigger than it actually is.” Really, no, but what can Peter do?

“Well, tell me what it is. Maybe I can help,” Tony says. “Thor knows I have my fair share of cranky arguments with your pops.” 

Peter has to bite his tongue. Again, the implication that he and MJ are together. He sighs, collecting his thoughts. Tony is going to be Tony regardless of what Peter says. In the end, it’s probably better that Tony assumes that he’s got something going on with MJ. He’ll never guess the whole Wade thing. “Fine, but remember this is kind of stupid, so no comments about that, okay?” Tony nods. “We were watching this show, okay?” 

“You guys are fighting over a TV show?” Tony asks incredulously. 

Peter groans, shaking his head. “I told you it was stupid, never mind.” 

“No, no!” Tony says quickly, sitting up straight and putting his hands in his lap. “Tell me? I won’t comment on it anymore. Tell me what’s going on.” He’s giving Peter puppy-dog eyes, but they don’t really work on Peter. 

Peter stares at his dad for a few moments, debating. He still wants another perspective. Does he have much of a choice? “It’s like a moral dilemma thing,” Peter says carefully, ignoring the way his dad smiles victoriously. “This guy like… catfished another guy, but also befriended him in real life. And like this guy was really starting to like the catfish guy–” 

“Do they have names? It’s hard to keep track,” Tony interrupts. 

“O-OKay,” Peter clears his throat. He can come up with names. “The guy catfishing the other guy is… Matt, and the guy being catfished is.. Brady, and the fake person is… Felix.” That sounds good, right? “I think those were their names. Anyway. Matt catfishes Brady using Felix's profile, but he also befriends Brady in real life. And like… Matt got close to Brady, like he becomes friends with Brady, and Brady confides in Matt about his feelings for Felix, which he wasn’t going to tell Felix at all.” Peter barely resists the urge to bury himself in the floor. That’s one of the most stupid analogies that he’s come up with. 

Tony frowns in confusion. “I thought catfishes never met the person or tried really hard not to.” 

Peter sighs. “Yeah, It was stupid. Sorry. I’ll apologize to MJ.” He picks up some notebooks he brought with him. They were never opened, but Peter won’t leave them here. “I’ll just–”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Tony adds hastily. Peter pauses. “No one likes to be lied to, or played.” Peter carefully looks at his dad. Tony is giving him an empathetic look. “Feelings don’t matter when someone’s trust is broken. It doesn’t matter what that catfish’s intentions are–love, a relationship–you can’t build anything substantial on a bed of lies.” 

Peter can’t look at his dad anymore. Tony’s right, and it hurts. Whatever Peter had with Wade, no matter how amazing it was, was doomed to fall apart. Well, it was never built to last, by design, and that’s Peter’s fault. But the worst part about this whole thing: even if their relationship was doomed to fail, Peter’s feelings for Wade were very real and Peter really wants to see Wade again. It’s also not his place to want that from Wade. Peter has made his bed and how he has to lie in it. 

He sighs, standing up from his stool. “I’m gonna head home,” he says, exhausted. 

“What?” Tony asks, looking completely surprised. “Why?” 

Peter wipes his free hand on his pants, his other occupied by a notebook tucked into his elbow. “I’ve been here for a few days. I should make sure nothing’s gaining sentience in my fridge.” A few days wouldn’t do that, but it’s been a lot longer since Peter has cared to clean out his fridge. Something has to be living in there by now. This thing with Wade has knocked his whole life out of alignment. 

“It’s almost five,” Tony says, giving Peter a wide-eyed look. “At least stay for supper. It’s Bruce’s turn to cook and he would’ve made enough for you, too.” Not that it would go bad in the Tower, especially if Thor is around, or Steve. Even Tony can put away a lot of food if he’s hungry enough. If Clint doesn’t get to it first.

“I don’t know if I’d be good company,” Peter sighs. He  _ knows _ he wouldn’t be. It’s tempting to stay though; Bruce is an amazing cook, but that also means all the other Avengers will be there. Peter would rather eat whatever he could scrounge up at home while fighting off some too-ripe vegetables instead of facing his family. 

“Come on, your pops won’t let you leave on an empty stomach,” Tony declares, standing and heading for the door, not giving Peter much of an option to say no. If he fought hard enough to go, he could manage to leave, but he doesn’t have the energy. So he relents and follows his dad to the common floor, bracing himself for his family. 

* * *

Supper was a tiring affair. Everyone could tell that Peter would rather be somewhere else, but were too polite to say so. So they talked around him, sometimes trying to get him to engage in their conversations, but Peter kept his head down and ate his food. It was probably delicious, but Peter didn’t taste it. He ate enough to be polite, then excused himself, leaving with quiet goodbyes. No one tried to stop him. 

Now he’s back in his apartment and it feels too big. It’s been two days since he’s been home and everything looks the same. Why did he think things would change if he left? 

He shuts and locks his front door, kicks off his shoes, and goes to his bed, collapsing onto it face-first without bothering to turn on any lights. He’s still fully dressed and he probably won’t be moving to fix that. He  _ should _ suit up and be Spider-Man, but it won’t kill him to take… another night off. Hopefully the city will survive. 

He pulls out his phone to call MJ, putting it on speakerphone and closing his eyes as it rings.  _ “Hello?” _ comes a gruff voice. 

Peter’s eyes snap open, fear squeezing his heart. Did someone steal MJ’s phone? Is MJ okay? “MJ?” Peter asks, looking at the number on screen as he tries to plan the fastest way to get to DC, but the number makes him pause. He called an unsaved number. 

_ “Peter?” _

“Wade?” he asks, the air leaving his lungs. 

_ “I told you to forget my number,”  _ Wade growls. 

Peter flinches like he’s been stabbed. It feels like Wade got him in the gut. “I’m sorry,” Peter says and hates himself for it. Those words have lost all meaning by now. “I was trying to call MJ. I must’ve hit your number by mistake.”

_ “How did you get through? I blocked you.”  _ Peter squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to cry.  _ “What do you mean I unblocked it?” _ Wade whispers harshly. Peter knows he’s talking to the boxes. 

“I don’t know, Wade,” Peter says, his eyes stinging. He really wishes Wade was here; despite everything, all he wants is Wade’s arms around him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

_ “You should’ve thought of that before you played with my feelings.”  _

“I didn’t play with your feelings!” Peter yells, heat burning through his chest. 

Wade is undeterred by Peter’s outburst though. When he speaks, his voice cracks.  _ “Was it all a lie, Peter? Could I ever mean as much to you as you did to me?” _

“You did, Wade. You  _ do,” _ Peter cries, all his feelings finally bubbling over. “I wish I didn’t care,” he says harshly, throat aching like the words are glass. “I wish I didn’t care one bit because it hurts to  _ breathe _ , Wade.” Wade doesn’t respond. Peter doesn’t know if Wade is still there, but he can’t stop. “I wish I didn’t care so I could move on, but I  _ can’t _ … I miss you so much,” he says with a whisper. “I miss patrolling with you, and your jokes, and your eyes, and… and the way you smile.” Peter is sobbing fully now. “And I’m so selfish because  _ you’re _ the one who got hurt and I can only think about  _ me. _ ” 

He rubs his chest, trying to ease the pain in his heart. His phone stays silent. “Wade?” he asks. He waits two seconds, then looks at his phone. The screen shows the call has ended.

Peter drops his phone and burrows under the covers, crying to himself. It hurts to even breathe, but he continues to do so, each gasping breath ragged and exactly what he deserves. Still, even though he’s suffering exactly as much as he deserves, Peter wishes that it didn’t hurt so much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Tony... _help???_
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26)
> 
> comments and kudos are welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripping off the Band-aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> You guys are getting a treat! Almost 5 000 words for y'all and something to really sink your teeth into <3 
> 
> I am planning on posting again tomorrow, as per the usual schedule, then I will be resuming my regular scheduling, so next Tuesday after tomorrow. We're in the home stretch here!

Wade doesn’t know why he’s here. 

Okay, that’s a lie. He knows  _ exactly  _ why he’s here: that phone call three days ago. Wade couldn’t say a damn thing, listening to Peter cry until he said Wade’s name. Wade, like the coward he is, hung up the phone and tried to forget everything he heard. 

It took him three days to get here. Well, two since he actually started the trek back to the Big Apple. He spent the first day in Canada, his mind echoing with Peter’s words. They didn’t stop, no matter how many bullets he ate. All Wade could hear was Peter heartbroken and in pain. Wade couldn’t stand the thought of Peter hurting. Yellow tried to convince him that Peter was lying, was playing him to do something worse, but Wade has seen Peter try to lie. He’s awful at it. Adorably awful.  _ {Careful,} _ Yellow warns. 

Wade swallows around a lump in his throat. He knows that being here is a mistake, but he needs closure from this and too much feels unsaid. He’s so tired of running and his head hurts. The only way to get out of this garbage fire is to push through it. Maybe then he can move on. 

_ {You’re an idiot,} _ Yellow snipes. Which, yes, he is and fair enough, but is that going to stop him? No. Has Wade being an idiot ever stopped him before? Absolutely not. 

Taking a deep breath, Wade raises his hand and knocks on a familiar door that he’s been loitering outside of for much too long. Wade’ll be lucky if no one called the cops on him. The knock sounds final, like a death toll, and he holds his breath, even when the door swings open. 

* * *

“Wade,” Peter says, eyes wide and lungs empty. He didn’t bother to use the peephole before opening the door, not caring if the person on the other side wanted to hurt him; he would’ve welcomed the distraction of a good beatdown. But this might be worse. If Peter had looked, would he have not opened the door? 

Peter pinches himself. There’s no way Wade is at his door, not after their last phone call. Or anything that’s been said between them, but even after pinching himself, he’s still awake.

There’s a moment where Peter’s suddenly hyperaware of how he looks. The last time Peter chanced a look in the mirror, his eyes were sunken in dark bags, his skin was pale, and his hair was greasy and sticking out in all directions. He can’t remember if he saw himself yesterday or the day before. His eyes are probably red and puffy because he’s spent most of the morning crying, but it’s later in the day now. Is it evening? Would Peter’s eyes still be red by then? Damn this stupid crying. Peter has no idea where the tears came from. He woke up, alone, like he always does, and remembered Wade, and started bawling. He doesn’t know where they’re coming from; he should be dry by now. “What are you doing here?” Peter asks. 

Wade’s shoulders hunch up and he stuffs his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. It just now registers to Peter that Wade isn’t in his Deadpool uniform. Peter still can’t see Wade’s face, the shadow from his hood covering him too well. “I came for some closure,” he says, voice rough, like he’s been screaming for days. Peter’s jaw tightens. “I need to get past this,” Wade adds in a whisper that breaks Peter’s heart. Should he have expected anything else? “Can I come in?” 

Peter turns away before Wade can see his lip wobble. “Yeah,” he chokes out, clearing his throat. “Make… make yourself comfortable.” That’s all the hospitality that Peter can stand to muster without fully breaking down. 

Wade brushes past him and it might be a dick move on Peter’s part, not moving from his spot, but that’s the closest he’s been to Wade in what feels like forever. He’s still so warm and he smells a little like sweat, like maybe he hasn’t showered in a while, which Peter can relate to. It’s just a moment, though, and Wade is past him. 

Peter takes a breath and closes and locks the door, taking his time. He wants to put this off. Preferably for forever, because while this whole thing hurts, Peter doesn’t want Wade to leave his life. 

When he turns around, Wade has settled on the side of his couch furthest from Peter’s bed. Peter should sit on the other end of the couch, but he opts for the end of his bed, grabbing his pillow and holding it to his chest. Like that will help this situation. They may not be sitting close together, but Peter’s place has never felt so small. 

Wade is leaning forward on his knees, but he’s looking directly at Peter. Peter has never hated and been more grateful for Wade’s hoodie before in his life. He desperately wants to see Wade’s face, but he also knows seeing any pain will kill Peter. “Why’d you do it?” Wade asks, sounding exhausted. 

“Do what?” Peter responds, like a coward.

“Why did you approach me? That first time,” he clarifies. Peter wasn’t expecting that. He thought he’d have to try to convince Wade that he wasn’t playing with his feelings again.

Yet Peter’s stomach still twists. What he felt when he first approached Wade is absolutely nothing compared to what Peter feels for him now, but he’ll tell Wade the truth. He deserves it. “I wanted to have sex with you,” he confesses. 

Wade scoffs. “That’s it?” 

Peter shrugs and plays with a loose thread coming off his pillowcase. He’s having trouble looking at Wade’s face, so his eyes are locked on his shoulder. “Yeah? At least that was the plan.” He pauses, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment. “I was… I was getting distracted by you in the field,” he adds without prompting. “My mind kept going to these places, but I didn’t want you to reject me and lose your friendship, so I thought it would be a better idea to approach you as a civilian. I didn’t… I didn’t expect to see you after that night. Not as Peter, at least.” 

“Guess I threw a wrench in your plans by… coming around again,” Wade jokes weakly. It’s a pale, pale comparison to the lighthearted banter he and Wade used to share, but Peter nearly breaks. It’s been so long since Wade hasn’t been overtly angry with him. 

Peter shakes his head, collecting his thoughts before he starts crying again. “I said I had a plan, but I really didn’t.” He looks at Wade’s face and Peter can see part of his chin. He almost loses his train of thought. “I was attracted to you, Wade, and that’s all I could think about that first night and leading up to it. And when you showed up again… it gave me an excuse to indulge again.” Peter takes a shaky breath. “I think my friends were right.” God, he hates when they know him better than he knows himself. 

Peter can hear Wade swallow. “What were they right about?” 

“That I had feelings for you since… since before I approached you that first night.” Peter sniffs, tears welling in his eyes, his hold on his pillow getting tighter. “I didn’t realize it then and I had no idea how far gone I was on you. You were my closest friend and I enjoyed spending time with you and I was delusional to think it was anything like what I feel when I’m with Ned or the MJs.” Peter sniffs, breath shaky. “I  _ convinced _ myself that the… the  _ thrill _ I felt whenever I saw you was from sneaking around with you… not because I was… that I was falling for you…” Peter glances up at Wade but can’t look for too long, guilt eating out his insides.

“I kept on convincing myself that the reason I didn’t want you to leave was because we had so much fun and not just because I really, really wanted you to stay. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but everything about you Wade… your smile, your eyes, your laugh… I couldn’t imagine living without you.” There are tears falling down his face now, heavy and hot. “And everything was fucked up by the time I was honest with myself.” He wipes at his face, hating that he’s crying again. “I know I should’ve told you sooner, Wade. I’ve never… I’ve never told anyone my secret identity and I didn't know how to do it or when was the right time, and I really hurt you.” 

“What about MJ?” Wade asks. “She knows.”

Peter chuckles wetly. “I never  _ told _ her. Apparently she’s known for years and has been waiting for me to come clean. You’re the only one I’ve told, Wade.” He dares to look up and Peter can see Wade’s eyes. They’re so full of emotion. Peter has missed them terribly. His throat constricts. “I should’ve told you sooner.” 

Wade nods, looking away. Peter’s heart pangs with the loss of those eyes.”I get why you didn’t, though. You’re real protective of your secret identity and… and we were just fucking.” 

Peter shakes his head quickly. “It might’ve started that way, but you mean so much to me, Wade. I wish I could go back and stop you from getting hurt.” Peter swipes at his eyes again, vision blurry. “I should’ve been more honest with myself, too. I’ve never played with your feelings, Wade. I don’t expect you to forgive me.” 

“What if I don’t?” Wade asks. “What does this mean for Spider-Man and Deadpool?” 

Peter tightens his hold again, surprised that the pillow isn’t popping. “I hope we could remain colleagues, if not friends.” The silence is deafening. Peter knows it’s a stupid and selfish desire, given Wade’s feelings. “I know it’s selfish, Wade,” Peter says quickly, “but you're one of my best friends and I can’t…I don’t want to lose that.” 

“Peter,” Wade sighs, “things have already changed so much. I can’t pretend that nothing happened between us.”

Peter bites his lip. That’s true. Peter won’t be able to forget how Wade felt against him, or the way that just getting a text message from Wade would brighten his whole day, no matter how cloudy it was. In an ideal world, Peter would like to date Wade, real and official, but he doesn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t say a thing about how he feels. It’s selfish and stupid and childish, but MJ really tore into him for not being honest and Tony made a good point about being honest with people. It might kill him to admit it, and it might be stupid, and it’s definitely selfish, but Peter is going to lay all his cards on the table. Wade deserves nothing less. “I want to be with you, Wade,” he admits. 

Somehow it’s easy to admit. He’s even looking into Wade’s eyes again and the words are coming out, unbidden and honest. Wade’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “In a more official capacity,” he adds. “No more lying to myself and no more lies to you.” He looks down, twirling the thread around his finger. “Everything was real, everything I felt, even if I couldn’t admit that to myself until I knew I fucked up irreparably.”

‘“So, you just expect … you expect me to forget everything and ride off into the sunset with you?” Wade asks incredulously. 

Peter is shaking his head before Wade is done speaking. “What we had, while there were a lot of good parts, was built on dishonesty, to me and to you. It was doomed to fail the moment I talked to you as Peter and there’s no way to go back and undo that.” Peter takes a deep breath, the thread breaking off the pillowcase and wrapped tight enough around his finger to turn his skin white. He pushes at the thread with his thumb, half-heartedly trying to get it off. “If you decide to give me a second chance…” Peter can’t dare to let himself hope, but it’s still there in his chest. “...I think it’d be best to start over.” 

“Start over?”

Peter nods. “Yeah… build something new together. It’s not like what happened didn’t happen, but we learn from it, we don’t do it again… no lies this time. And it’s up to you, Wade. I’ll respect whatever you decide to do.” He hopes it’s not too selfish a request, very aware that his proposed solution is coming from a very selfish place, but he’s willing to work to earn Wade’s trust again. Even if it takes a while. Peter would really like to earn Wade’s trust again.

Wade seems to be mulling over Peter’s offer. Peter is holding his breath, traitorous hope getting bigger in his chest with every moment of silence that passes. He hates that he’s being optimistic about this. Wade stands suddenly. “I need to… think about it.”

That hope swells more and Peter prays it isn’t obvious on his face. He’s nodding before he can think about it. “Of course, of course,” he says quickly, standing as well, like he’s going to walk Wade to the door. He doesn’t though, standing awkwardly at the end of the bed as he watches Wade walk out. Walking Wade to the door is an old habit, one that always ended with a kiss. They can’t. Not yet. “W-Wait,” Peter calls after Wade. He has one more question, one thing that doesn’t make sense. Wade stops, hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn around. “Why did you think I was playing with your feelings?” Peter asks.

Wade’s shoulders are tense and he turns slightly, far enough for Peter to see his jawline, but not his eyes. “Because I don’t deserve… because it was too good to be true.” 

Peter’s mouth falls open, speechless. He’s not… he’s not better than Wade. Not by a long shot. Before Peter can respond, Wade nods once.“I’ll call you,” he says, and walks out. 

Peter stares at the closed for a few minutes, feeling like it’s easier to breathe and like he’s gotten the air knocked out of him. It’s not perfect, but this talk could’ve gone a lot worse. 

* * *

Wade wanders around a bit, trying to process the conversation he had with Peter. He’s a little shocked that it didn’t devolve into a screaming match, but he thinks that the talk they had was more cathartic than yelling. Although it’s hard to process everything because, unsurprisingly, the boxes are not being helpful in any way.  **_[You should just do it!]_ ** White cheers.  **_[What are the odds that someone like him would_ ** _ still _ **_want you?]_ **

_ {He just feels guilty,}  _ Yellow seethes.  _ {His stupid hero complex is making him feel guilty. Do everyone a favor and leave Spider-Man alone.} _

**_[No, no, no, no, no, no. He has to_ ** _ capitalize _ **_on this,]_ ** White insists.  **_[Peter used us so it’s only fair that we use him back.]_ **

“I’m not going to do that,” Wade whispers harshly. New Yorkers are less likely to pay mind to a guy talking to himself, but he’s still in the Canadian mindset where a man talking to himself causes people to cross the street in concern. 

_ {Why? Do you think you’re  _ **_better_ ** _ than that?} _ Yellow sneers.  _ {Don’t be naive, Wade.} _

“Are you saying I  _ should _ go back to him?” Wade snarls, a little louder. The strangers around him take a step away to give him space but otherwise don’t look his way.

_ {Not a fucking chance–} _

**_[Absolutely!]_** White cuts them off. **_[Go find Peter, bend him over and_** _continue_ ** _to bend him over until you feel better!]_**

Wade’s stomach turns at the thought. It sounds too close to rape to be pleasurable and while Wade is  _ most definitely  _ a sexual deviant, noncon has never been on his kink list. He can’t even roleplay it! As soon as his partner says ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ Wade has to stop. Yellow laughs cruelly in his head.  _ {You really think you’re better than that.} _

Wade rubs his hands over his head, ducking off to the side of the sidewalk, out of the way, and presses the heels of his hands into his temples. He does it until he feels pain. “Shut up,” he whispers. There’s a noticeable bubble around Wade now, even as he’s pressed into a wall. He can’t go on like this. He  _ can’t. _

He looks around, hoping to find something to distract himself and he notices that he’s close to Sister Margaret’s.  _ Lucky, _ he thinks. Weasel has shit advice, but if talking fails, Weasel can get him some work somewhere far away. Wade sets his course for the bar, the crowd parting around him. Wade doesn’t care how he looks right now, focused single-mindedly on getting to his destination. 

It’s late enough in the day that Sister Margaret’s is open and mildly full, a far cry from the last time Wade came here bearing the battle scars of his one-on-one lesson in manners from Captain America. People glance at Wade as he passes by them, familiar mean eyes sizing him up. Once they recognize him (he’s rarely out of uniform here and these guys aren’t too partial to strangers wandering in on their own), they go back to whatever they were doing. For anyone else, they’d give him a lingering ear, but most know better than to try and eavesdrop on Wade’s business. It’s been a while, but the last time someone had an ear out where they weren’t supposed to, the guy lost half of it. Still, if they’re good enough to eavesdrop without Wade noticing, they deserve to hear his business. That said, eavesdropping in on another merc isn’t very good behavior in the first place, so it’s a frowned upon practice and a good way to get on someone’s shit list. At least Wade doesn’t hold grudges once he takes his pound of flesh. 

Wade makes a beeline for the bar, eyes locked on an oblivious Weasel. He’s busy serving up a drink, talking to some tough-looking guy. The other bartenders notice Wade and watch him with wary eyes, but don’t make a move to intercept him. For the most part, working as a bartender at Sister Margaret’s is one of the safest jobs someone can have in this part of the city. They’re kind of like the guys in the army that wear the crosses: you protect ‘em and you don’t shoot ‘em. So Wade isn’t surprised that Weasel isn’t noticing him. His position as head bartender and the call guy for missions puts him in a very lofty, protected position. It also helps that Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, has a soft spot for the coward. 

Which is probably why Wade is able to lean right over the bar and grab the front of Weasel’s shirt without anyone trying to stop him. Anyone else, they would’ve gotten the bar top to the teeth and a kick to the ass. Wade’s friendship with Weasel is probably also why no one pulls a gun on him when he grabs Weasel. They just hold their breath, the bar going quiet. “Wade?” Weasel asks, eyes wide, but not with fear. Well, no more than usual with him being grabbed unexpectedly. “I can see your face.” 

“I need to talk to you,” Wade says evenly. 

“Well, have a seat–”

“Privately,” Wade cuts him off, voice still even but deeper with emphasis. 

Weasel blinks and noise slowly returns to the bar. “Alright, but you gotta let me go first.” 

Wade lets him go and Weasel runs his hand over the wrinkled part of his shirt, more for form’s sake than out of a genuine desire to get the wrinkles out. “Come to the office,” he says and walks out from behind the bar. Wade follows him without a word. 

Weasel leads him to a back office that he unlocks with three keys on a small ring he pulls from his pocket. He holds the door open for Wade and locks the door behind them when he follows Wade inside. This pocket of Sister Margaret’s is  _ covered _ in computer guts and file folders, all carefully stacked around an impressive computer setup. This is Weasel’s base of operations, where he collects and screens potential jobs, as well as handling the transactions between client and merc, taking his finder’s fee off the top of course. It’s a little bigger than a closet, probably the original small office in the back of this place, but it’s been upgraded. Not just the tech, but the walls are all entirely soundproof. Wade could set off a grenade in here and it would sound like a moth’s fart outside. 

Wade is one of the very few allowed into this space. 

“What do you need, Wade?” Weasel asks, taking a seat in his chair behind the computer. The chair squeaks a bit. 

Wade sighs, leaning back against the door. Because no one is allowed back here, not really, Weasel doesn’t have chairs for anyone else. Not that it matters. Wade couldn’t sit if he wanted to. “I feel fucking unstable,” he admits, voice gravelly. 

Weasel looks at him with raised eyebrows, stilling like one would under the gaze of a predator. “Not  _ that _ unstable,” Weasel remarks, staying perfectly still, “since you’re here and not knee-deep in some drug cartel within driving distance.” 

Wade chuckles weakly.  **_[Oh_ ** _ fuck _ **_, killing some drug lord would be_ ** _ so good _ **_!]_ ** White says. Wade winces.  **_[Let’s do that!]_ **

“I’m trying to be better,” Wade says instead of agreeing with White. 

“Clearly,” Weasel says without emotion. Of course he would know that. He’s the one who handles Wade’s jobs and he would feel the lack of income from Wade not taking those killing jobs anymore. “Why are you here then? I know you say I’m the Alfred to your Batman, but I’m pretty sure you’re making fun of me when you say it.” Wade almost laughs. He is. No one can be as awesome as Alfred. “Do you have information?” 

Oh  _ boy _ does Wade have information. It’s not a weird question to get from Weasel. He has a continuous reward system for information coming in, so every now and then someone will come in and share something for a few bucks, depending on how useful the information is. Spider-Man’s secret identity is probably more valuable than a good parking space in Manhattan. Wade’s sure that politicians have  _ killed _ (or hired killers) to get parking spaces on the island. 

The thing is, Spider-Man’s civilian identity is not what Wade is here to talk about. Well… he’s not here to tell Weasel that Peter is Spider-Man. Despite everything, Wade wouldn’t do that to him. Weasel could do a lot of damage with that information, although he never would without Wade’s permission, but it would be like an unscratchable itch. “Do you want a job?” Weasel asks. “One that’ll help you get your head on straight?” 

Wade shakes his head. “I don’t think I need a job yet…” He pauses for a second. “Peter’s been lying to me.” 

Weasel blinks at Wade. “You… you brought me to the most secure room in New York to… talk about your boyfriend troubles?” he asks incredulously. 

“Technically,  _ you _ brought  _ me  _ here,” Wade argues. Weasel gives him a flat look. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”  _ Yet _ , his mind adds traitorously. He shakes his head. There’s no way he could date Peter after this whole thing. 

Weasel sighs heavily, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes. “Why do bad things happen to me?” Weasel asks rhetorically. Wade bites back the temptation to say ‘ _ because you’re a bad dude.’ _ He isn’t wholly bad. After all, he’s listening to Wade’s boy problems. He sighs again and looks at Wade, squinting at him. “It’ll be easier for me if I just… listen, huh?” 

Wade nods. 

Weasel sighs  _ again. _ Really, aren’t his lungs fully deflated yet? “What did he lie to you about?” 

“I can’t tell you details,” Wade says and Weasel looks pained, “but it boils down to Peter playing with my emotions and laughing about me with his friends…” Wade looks down, feeling exposed. “Our entire relationship was a lie.” 

“Okay, Wade, that sucks, even for you,” Weasel says, sounding about as sympathetic as he can. Something eases in Wade’s chest at the simple validation. “What did he say when you showed him the proof?” 

Wade blinks, confused. “Proof?” 

Weasel stares at him. “Yeah, like evidence.” Wade stares back. “You know, evidence that he was doing what you say. I know I’m the last person to give  _ anyone _ the benefit of the doubt, but I thought superboy would be one of those guys who hurt people without meaning to.” 

Wade has to concede that point, even if he’s still frozen with confusion. Peter has a pretty… stubborn moral code. 

“Because of  _ that _ ,” Weasel goes on, “I would assume you’d have some pretty solid evidence that he was being malicious.” 

Wade’s mouth drops open. “Malicious?” He doesn’t think Peter has a single malicious bone in his body. If Peter wasn’t one of the smartest people he knew, he’d assume he didn’t know the meaning of the word. 

Weasel frown. “Yeah, you’re kind of head over heels for him,” he says casually. Wade wants to deny it, but what’s the point? “I think he’d have to do something purposefully shitty and awful so you wouldn’t forgive him.”

_ {He lied to us!} _ Yellow argues. 

_ He lied to us about being Spider-Man, _ Wade defends internally.  _ Is that really a lie? He hasn’t told  _ **_anyone_ ** _. _

_ {He talked to us as Spider-Man to find out your feelings towards Peter,} _ Yellow points out, which is fair.  _ {That’s pretty shady if you ask me.} _

_ Did he, though? _ Wade challenges. 

“Come on, Wade, you don’t have  _ anything? _ ” Weasel asks in disbelief, pulling Wade from his thoughts. Although not all the way out. “It’s part of your  _ job  _ to collect information.” 

Wade stares at Weasel, lips pressed tightly together. He can’t remember how to talk right now. 

“Wade?” 

“Thinking,” Wade whispers gruffly, very still. All his muscles are tense. He goes back into his mind to think things through. Peter  _ did _ lie to him about Spider-Man, but what did he really do? Spider-Man encouraged Wade to seek out Peter, which, knowing what he knows now, makes Wade wonder about his intentions. But he never prodded for information about Peter, even when they were talking about him. Nothing beyond polite interest anyway. 

And anything past that, Spider-Man never had to prod about Peter because Wade couldn’t stop talking about Peter once he started. Is Weasel right? Is he head over heels, ass over tea kettle, balls to the wall, in l-word with Peter?

Peter  _ should’ve _ stopped Wade once he started rambling about his feelings, but could he have done so without being rude, or giving away his secret? Could Spider-Man have asked Wade not to mention Peter anymore without hurting some part of his friendship with Wade? Wade doubts he’d be able to look at Spider-Man the same if he thought the hero was uncomfortable about his relationship with Peter. So what could Peter do when Wade started spilling his stupid feelings everywhere?

_ {Are you making excuses for him?} _ Yellow asks sharply. 

“Wade,” Weasel says, this time drawing Wade from his thoughts much easier, even if he can’t respond yet. “Since I don’t know the details, my advice is going to be general: if he did something unforgivable, cut him out completely. Easier said than done, I know, but if you think you can move past this, forgive him even, talk with him.”

“You’re encouraging me to date a superhero…’s kid?” Wade winces. Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all. While what Weasel does for his bar is more or less above board, the merc stuff isn’t so squeaky clean and having supers around is kind of a no-no. 

“No,” Weasel says flatly. Somehow that makes Wade feel better. “I’m encouraging you to do what’s best for you. I know I’m a dick, but I also know you’ve been through shit. Don’t do whatever because he has a pretty face.” 

“Wow… Weasel,” Wade says, touched. 

“Shut up,” Weasel snaps. “I’m going to throw up if you say something sappy.” He shakes his head. “Whatever you do, you’ll get through it. And I will be here to enable you.” 

“In a good or bad way?” Wade asks with a smile. 

Weasel shrugs and Wade laughs. For the first time in a while, he feels like he can move forward. Weasel may be a slimy greaseball, but he’s probably the  _ best _ worst best friend someone like Wade could hope for. 

“Thanks, Weas,” Wade says. “I have some things to think about, but I may need a job soon.” 

“Something easy?” Weasel asks, spinning in his chair and grabbing a few files from a stack behind him. He flips open a few, but closes them right away. 

“Eh, maybe a seven,” Wade shrugs, “but don’t commit me to anything yet. Just keep me in mind.” Weasel nods, opening another file and skimming the contents. “See ya, Weas.” He doesn’t wait for Weasel to respond before he leaves. 

The door to Weasel’s office only opens from the inside unless you have the keys for the outside locks. The door shuts firmly behind him with a click. The boxes are saying something, but they’re a lot easier to ignore now. And it’s easier to dispute them. 

There’s one thing he knows for sure: whatever he decides, he knows he’s moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, some _talking_ some _honesty_
> 
> _**FINALLY** _
> 
> it's not perfect, but i feel so much better coming out of this chapter. and hey! We got to see Weasel again! my favorite slimeball <3 
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Thursday_26) for keeping up with me <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit after the fact....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday guys! 
> 
> Sorry to let you know that I will be posting the last two chapters on the schedule, giving my poor beta a bit of a break, so the next chapter will come out on Tuesday, but I hope you've enjoyed this speedrun through the most angsty parts of the story!! 
> 
> this chapter isn't super long, it's mostly going over some of the emotional loose ends and moving everyone forward!

After Wade leaves Peter’s apartment, Peter feels better and worse. He hates that Wade left and might not come back, but he feels lighter after his confession. The past few days, Peter has been in a  _ state. _ He thinks he went to school, but he can’t remember much after his call with Wade. He just knows that he was sad, but now that he’s laid everything out, Peter feels like he can move on without Wade. Even if that’s the worst case scenario.

He hopes their talk was as helpful for Wade.

An hour after Wade leaves, Peter decides that he’s done moping and Spider-Man needs to get back out there. It’s okay for him to take a break, but the world doesn’t stop because his heart is broken. He will survive this. 

He takes a hot shower, washing away the last three days, and puts on his Spider-Man suit. For the first time in what feels like a long time, he can put on the suit without feeling guilty. At least when he looks in the mirror with everything on but his mask, he only looks tired, not like death warmed over. 

Before he goes out, he checks his personal phone, plugging it in when he realizes it’s almost dead. He can’t remember being very social after Wade called him. Still, he must’ve charged it some time in the interim. There are a few texts from Mary Jane and his dads and a missed call from Jameson with a new voicemail. He probably wants more pictures. Peter can admit that it’s maybe a little risky to essentially sell Jameson his selfies. But he also finds the situation hilarious, even if Jameson uses those pictures to accessorize what are essentially slam pieces on Spider-Man. Okay, that might be funny, too. The Spider-Man articles, in Peter’s humble opinion, are barely a step up from celebrity gossip rags, but Jameson is rabid in his insistence that he’s “exposing the truth” about Spider-Man. Whatever that means. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This freelance gig allows Peter to fill any down time with hunting out the perfect picture and that’s been important over the last month to keep his mind off of Wade. He doesn’t bother opening any of his notifications, leaving his phone on his nightstand and grabbing his Spider-Man phone. This phone is a lot better at keeping its charge, partly because he barely has any apps on it, but also because he went into the phone’s guts and upgraded the battery (totally voiding the warranty in the process). He can’t just let people know he has a second phone, so the Spidey-phone is hidden more often than not. 

He turns off the lights to his apartment, putting his mask on and checking his shooters as he walks towards the window to nowhere. Each has enough web fluid for a night. He pushes open the window, letting in the cool evening air. Peter takes a deep breath through the mask. Time to give New York her friendly neighborhood hero. 

* * *

Patrol is slow. Which isn’t a bad thing in and of itself; it means that crime is low tonight, but it leads to a very bored Spider-Man. He finds himself on a rooftop later into the night and he realizes it’s the rooftop where he came clean to Wade. It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole month since then. The air is still cold, but not as cold as it was that night. 

He’s even sitting in the same spot where he was waiting for Wade, feet dangling over the edge, but this time his mask is only pushed up past his nose instead of all the way off. The moisture from his mouth can make the material uncomfortable on his face, so in the colder months, Peter will push it up more. Especially when he’s resting. 

The city looks pretty from here, what he can see of it anyway, the sounds from the street almost muffled with how high he is. It’s like there’s a barrier between him and the ground. It’s almost relaxing. Every time he exhales, a light cloud comes out of his mouth. Breathing out feels healing. 

Things might be in limbo with Wade, but Peter still has everything else in his life. If Wade wants to move on… will Peter miss him? Abso-fucking-lutely he’ll miss Wade. But Peter still has Spider-Man, his family, and his friends. It’ll suck, and it’ll hurt to have things end, but he knows that he’d be able to move on. Eventually. 

He can’t think about Wade like that. Peter is supposed to be  _ optimistic.  _ Thinking about the end of the fallout  _ isn’t _ optimistic. He laces his fingers behind his neck and ducks his head down, breathing deeply. It’s a little awkward, but not uncomfortable. Why does it feel so hard to be optimistic? 

Peter sighs, shaking his head and pulling his mask down. The fabric over his mouth is slightly damp and cool, but it’s not intolerable. He moves so he’s in a crouch, looking over the city, and listens. 

A scream jolts Peter from his thoughts. It takes him a moment to place where he heard it, but he jumps into action as soon as he can. He leaps off the building, shooting out a web. Whatever happens, Peter will always have Spider-Man. 

At least as Spider-Man, he’ll be too busy to think about his problems. 

* * *

Wade steps onto the rooftop well into the night. It’s the same rooftop where he learned Peter Parker and all his names and Spider-Man are the same person. That night feels like a million years ago now and it only brings echoes of pain instead of the visceral, stabbing kind. 

After talking to Weasel, he took a detour to his place to get dressed. He hasn’t worn the Deadpool suit in a while and it feels nice to be inside it again, even if he’s minimally armed. His katanas aren’t even on his back. Putting on the suit was also an attempt to keep people from bothering him. Even as lightly armed as he is, people tend to give Deadpool a wide berth. Unless he’s wreaking havoc, then someone is always bothering him. But he doesn’t want to cause trouble tonight. He just wants to think.

Peter, as Peter, was one of the few people to approach him in full costume without fear. 

He shakes his head and sits at the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the air, but his thoughts are too heavy for him to swing them. His legs, not his thoughts. Yellow snorts loudly at his reasoning. “Shut up,” Wade says, not caring about talking out loud now. Who’s going to overhear him? 

_ {I didn’t say anything,} _ Yellow says casually.

Wade rolls his eyes. “I can hear you thinking it.” 

_ {Oh yeah? Where’s your proof then?} _

Wade’s stomach twists. Not about Yellow, obviously, but this is the crux of Wade’s issues: proof. What evidence does he have that Peter was mocking him? That Peter was playing with his emotions? He has nothing more than his crippling self-doubt screaming at him and the embarrassment of confessing his feelings to his crush without knowing he was doing it. That being said, his self-doubt makes a compelling case: Why would someone like Peter choose Wade? 

_ He wouldn’t _ , Self-Doubt whispers harshly.

Why did Peter keep on calling him? 

_ Because you’re easy, _ Self-Doubt sneers. 

Why would Peter wait so long to talk about Spider-Man? 

_ He doesn’t trust you! _ Self-Doubt yells. 

Sure that  _ sounds  _ true on the surface, hell it even sounds logical, but is that  _ really _ evidence? It wouldn’t hold up in court, that’s for sure. Wade has two very good (and annoying) reasons to not entirely trust his own mind. At least outside of combat. While fighting, his instincts are sharp and Wade trusts them with his life… more or less. But this isn’t battle. 

_ {You’re still trying to make excuses for that wannabe hero? That Avengers knock-off!} _ Yellow sneers.  _ {You’re so pathetic.} _ It’s funny how Yellow would sound so much like Self-Doubt if it didn’t sound like Wade’s own voice. 

“He  _ is _ a hero,” Wade argues.

_ {Not with the way he treats people,} _ Yellow argues back.

**_[Or with where that mouth has been,]_** White leers. **_[Can’t we just use him? Just for a little bit? Thirty-six hours?]_**

“No,” Wade says, rubbing his head. “None of you are helping.” 

_ {Did you really expect us to?} _ Yellow asks dryly. 

Wade sighs again and looks out over the city. This high up, it’s hard to hear the noise from the street, but it isn’t quiet. The air is cold and biting, but it’s its own kind of peaceful. If there’s one thing Wade’s learned tonight it’s that he needs to find his evidence. He’s going to have to dig. 

Regardless of Wade’s initial reaction, Wade doesn’t truly believe that Peter is cruel, even with someone like Wade. So he really needs to gather proof, so he can put it behind him. Peter, or Spider-Man (it’s really obvious that they’re one and the same, looking back, but hindsight is 20/20), has never acted in a way that would not afford him a fair shake. Even if it might hurt, getting the proof will help with closure. 

So Wade pulls out his phone and calls a friend, even if they’re only a friend in the loosest sense of the term. He looks up at the sky while it rings, thinking about wanting to see the stars when they answer. “Hey, MJ,” Wade greets tiredly, legs starting to kick a bit. “I have some questions for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome! Hope your Friday goes well!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 🔥🔥🔥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!1 Guess what?? It's Tuesday and I hope everyone enjoys what happens in this chapter!!! we're almost at the end!!! I'm so sad but excited to show off everything!!!
> 
> EDIT: I'm adding a TW for this chapter! It'll be spoiler-y so I'm going to put it in the end notes!

Wade takes a few days to try and collect evidence to prove that Peter’s intentions towards him were malicious. He’s questioned MJ a few times, actually coming to enjoy speaking with her on the phone outside of his investigation. She’s smart as a whip and unmoving when it comes to her morals. MJ has made it no secret that she isn’t happy with Peter, but he’s also been adamant that Peter never acted maliciously. Wade doubts she would lie to him, even if they didn’t get along. 

He did some recon on the other MJ and Ned, not contacting them directly. They know about Wade, they know that he’s Deadpool, and that Peter was sleeping with him. And he did meet them once, if briefly. Wade did the normal stalking stuff first: checking their social media, then maybe following them into a coffee shop, but then he might’ve gone a little more illegal in spying on them. He knows that’s probably a no-no, but he needed to collect his evidence and they were talking about him anyway, so it only seemed fair. 

_{This is why no one likes you.}_

Wade shakes his head, as if he can rattle the boxes into silence. 

_Anyway,_ Ned and MJ did talk about him, sometimes with Peter. They seemed to pick up on the tension around the topic, but it seems like Peter was able to keep his and Wade’s falling-out from Ned and MJ. He’s not sure how he managed that exactly, since Peter looked like shit last time they were together. **_[He was beautiful!!!]_ **

But Peter hung out with them a few times since Wade’s visit. They teased Peter about his crush and kept on badgering him to bring Wade around. When they weren’t around Peter, they were a lot more crude. Nothing raunchy and nothing that Wade hasn’t heard before, but they didn’t seem to be mocking Wade at all. No, even when they were mocking someone about their feelings, they were talking about how _Peter_ was an idiot for thinking he _wasn’t_ dating Wade. That’s a wild concept, honestly, since Wade never expected other people to be encouraging, of all things, of something more serious between him and Peter. But, even without really knowing Wade, MJ and Ned seemed to like him. No mockery. No Wade-themed roasts. 

Still, he kept tabs on them. He told himself it was to catch them mocking him later, not because he’d grown kind of fond of the way Ned seemed to be a little fanboy, or the way that MJ just seemed annoyed with the whole thing.

So if it wasn’t Peter’s close friends he was laughing about Wade with, it had to be someone from the Avengers, obviously. At least that’s what Wade thought. It makes the most sense. Who else does Peter hang around? 

So he went out and collected some information from the Avengers, _in cognito_ of course. How you ask? That’s Wade’s _job._ But none of the Avengers know who Spider-Man is, nor do they seem to be aware that Peter and Wade were bumping uglies for a few months. Both facts are requisite information to be in on the (alleged) joke. 

Also, from his reconnaissance, it appears that Daddy Warbucks and Captain Stripey-Pants are unaware of Peter’s nighttime activities entirely. Peter did tell Wade that he’s never told anyone about Spider-Man, but Wade assumed that at least _Tony_ would have an inkling. But his information tells him otherwise. Wade can tell they have _no idea_ , sometimes even running official Avengers meetings fully about what to do about Spider-Man and who he is (Wade _might’ve_ ~~stolen~~ _borrowed_ some of the Avengers’ meeting notes, but that’s neither here nor there). 

(And Tony should really beef up his security). 

_{You’re a piece of trash,}_ Yellow says, like it’s something fresh he’s thought up. 

“Shut up,” Wade says. 

People aren’t too freaked out about his external dialogue with the boxes now. One, he’s in New York. Two, he’s fully outfitted in his Deadpool regalia, so some eccentricities are to be expected. They still give him space, but that probably has more to do with the fact that he’s fully armed, giving him room to think. Well they probably don’t care if he’s thinking, they’re giving him room to swing.

Wade hasn’t been able to sit still for too long, otherwise the boxes get too loud, so he’s been keeping busy. He does recon for his Peter project, but when he isn’t doing that he’s doing some light patrol. Nothing major or particularly heroic. He wanders the streets, always moving, checking back alleys and knocking out purse snatchers. Once he scared the literal piss out of some armed robber. He went quietly, which was pleasant. Well, except for the piss part.

The patrols and the minor acts of kindness keep him busy, but they also remind him of Peter. But not in a bad way, or a way that hurts at all. His patrol nights are some of the best memories he has with Peter, minus the more sexy ones… they are some of his best non-sexy memories with Peter, even if he didn’t know he was making them with Peter. And the more information Wade collects, the more his doubts about Peter seem to fade. 

While Wade was embarrassed about learning that he confessed his feelings to the one guy he was _never_ going to say anything to, Wade can understand why Peter didn’t and couldn’t tell him about Spider-Man sooner. Wade might not always be the smartest chimp in the zoo, but he does get some brain blast moments and any attempts on Peter’s part to separate Spider-Man and Peter would give Wade a brain itch that he would need to scratch. And Spider-Man is known for protecting his secret ID with almost Batman levels of paranoia. **_[Wrong universe!]_ **

“He’s still got a comic book,” Wade shoots back. White grumbles, but concedes the point. 

Anyway, Wade can understand why Peter did what he did and when he did it. To put it simply: Wade can’t shut up, especially when something makes him happy. And Peter made him happy. So it was inevitable that Spider-Man would get Wade’s feelings spilled all over him. Spider-Man is someone Wade considers to be one of his closest friends. And Wade’s other closest friend (Weasel) _{Only friend}_ can attest that Wade _never_ shuts up and shares to the point of TMI. 

_{You’re so pathetic, Wade,}_ Yellow bites.

“I’m pretty sure you already said that,” he responds, chipper. “And you’re going to have to be more specific.”

_{You’re making excuses for this asshole!}_

“I’m not making excuses.” 

_{You’re making excuses,}_ Yellow insists. _{He lied to you.}_

“And just why do you care?” Wade asks, deadpan. “Pretty sure you hate my fucking guts and it’s starting to sound like you’re worried about me.” 

_{Don’t read into it, asshole. What I can’t stand is that we don’t do anything fun anymore. You never take jobs from Weasel and when you do take a job, they’re_ **_boring_ ** _!}_

 **_[But!]_ ** White cuts in. **_[He gets to have sex with Peter. He’s a very pretty picture and more than makes up for the lack of blood.]_ ** Wade rolls his eyes. **_[But we could also make Peter bleed.]_ **

“We’re not killing Peter,” Wade says under his breath, angry. Killing Peter has been a popular suggestion ever since they fell out, but White’s tone this time is uncomfortably sexual. Wade feels like he’s shot down the idea enough times for them to get the picture. Still, expecting the boxes to listen to him is truly insanity. 

That being said, he knows why the boxes haven’t been more creative with their suggestions. Despite the embarrassment and the pain, Wade still wants to be with Peter and Peter has left the decision for them to be together up to him. Peter wants it, but he’s not about to force Wade to take him back. The boxes don’t know what to do with that information, so killing is the easiest suggestion to make. They don’t know what else to do.

For the first time in a long time, _Wade_ has equal power in a relationship. It’s a sad fact that Wade’s partners generally like to use him then leave him, sometimes even leaving him alive when they're done with him. Peter was kind of like that at the start of their relationship, or whatever it was–the start of their fucking. He respected Wade’s opinions throughout their tryst, but Wade has been jumping through hoops to keep Peter interested and calling on him and trying to avoid things that would turn Peter off. Not that he didn’t enjoy everything they did, but now he doesn’t have to say “how high?” when Peter says “jump.” He can actually say “why” when Peter says “jump.” 

Wade can’t remember the last time he’s had that. 

The boxes don’t like Wade when he’s with Peter, which seems like more than enough reason to date Peter because the boxes aren’t exactly paragons of good choices, but… but Wade is hesitating. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. It seems like a no-brainer: he still likes Peter, Peter likes him back, _and_ the boxes don’t like Peter. Everything lines up perfectly.

 _{He’s just going to lie to you again,}_ Yellow growls. 

“He’s not like that,” Wade argues. 

_{You’ll turn him into that,}_ Yellow sneers. _{Doesn’t matter who he is now, he’ll be corrupted. You’re_ **_poison_ ** _, Wade.}_

Wade’s stomach twists. That’s true. Wade is a _cockroach_. A radioactive cockroach: impossible to kill and toxic, especially over time. Long-term exposure will no doubt ruin someone if not outright kill them. Wade can’t kill the good in Peter. That’s the best part in Peter. Wade wouldn’t even fight Iron Man or Captain America if he killed the good in Peter. No… no matter what Wade wants, it’ll be better for everyone if he breaks things off with Peter. 

_{Finally!}_ Yellow cheers.

 **_[Nooooooo!]_ ** White cries.

Wade sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Even after proving that Peter wasn’t mocking him or something, (seems stupid to think that now) at least to himself, it’ll be for the best if he leaves Peter alone. All he has to do is–

Sirens cut off his train of thought, startling him and making him jump. He turns and sees a couple of firetrucks barrelling down the street, sirens loud and lights coloring the streets. The sun has completely set, the darkness of night fully setting in for probably hours even though Wade would be hard-pressed to know the time now, but the red from the firetruck’s lights pulse, chasing away the night. The lights remind Wade of movies when a klaxon alarm goes off and a state of emergency is declared.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, Wade has personally been in deep shit and on the brink of death, but the cry of the fire truck's siren going down the street and so close to him has his heart racing and it makes him feel queasy. 

_{Forget that,}_ Yellow cuts in, voice sharp in his brain. _{You were going to call Peter to break things off. Do it before you chicken out, coward. Where are you going?}_

It takes Wade a moment to realize that he’s running, feet pounding against the pavement and breathing heavier. People part around him as Wade chases the sirens. “Gotta help,” he grunts, debating if he should use a grappling gun to try and swing, even though he can’t swing as well as Peter. 

**_[No one can,]_ ** White points out, which, fair. Wade could practice for a million years and he’d never be as graceful as Spider-Man. 

_{Are you_ **_insane_ ** _!}_ Yellow screeches. _{You’re going to_ **_help_ ** _?! You’re not a fucking hero, Wade!}_

Wade ignores Yellow, who continues to berate Wade, calling him all sorts of fun names, but nothing repeatable. Thankfully Wade can smell the smoke so he doesn’t have to try to fly. 

When he rounds the corner he comes to a screeching halt, eyes widening at the _inferno_ blazing between two trendy looking buildings. Inferno is the only correct word to describe what Wade sees. The fire is burning so bright that Wade can’t even tell if the lights are still on on the trucks. Police are putting up barricades and pushing a crowd back, some soot-covered people staying inside the barricade, watching the blaze. That kicks Wade into motion. People. He has to help the people, no matter what Yellow calls him. 

He finds a guy, no, a lady, with CHIEF on her helmet. The air is already so hot close to the fire. None of the police tried to stop him. He hopes that no one follows him inside the barricade. The police looked pretty busy. “Tell me how I can help,” Wade says, or, more accurately, yells. It’s noisy here between the roar of the fire and the din of the emergency responders.

The chief looks him up and down, her eyes hard, but her face pale. Wade doesn’t blame her for her hesitation. Wade was a good Canadian boy at one point and the rule was always “don’t bother the firefighters. Stay out of their way.” He’s still Canadian, but no longer a boy. And he can help.

Chief grabs something from the truck and tosses it at Wade, who catches it with a grunt of surprise. It’s a walkie-talkie. “Frequency 79,” Chief says gruffly, her voice raspy. “It’s too hot for my men to go much higher than the second floor. If you can get up there, see if anyone is still inside. Radio out and find a window. We’ll use the ladder to get them out, unless you can get them to the fire escape. It’s still intact and safe.” 

Wade nods and looks up at the building. It looks like 6 floors total, including the ground floor. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but it feels impossible with everything _on fire_. He takes a deep breath and makes sure the radio is on the right frequency. “What’s your name?” Wade asks. 

“They call me Mama,” she says, doing something with some equipment. He nods and clips the walkie-talkie to his belt. His radio comes to life with chatter that Wade doesn’t understand completely, but that’s okay. 

“Okay, Mama, I’ll start on the third floor,” he says and rushes in through the front doors. 

He runs past other firefighters. They don’t pay him much mind. Wade goes straight for the stairs and runs up them until the third floor. The stairs are on fire, but what are a few more burns? He doesn’t think twice racing up them. 

Wade is already sweating buckets when he gets to the third floor, but he can’t stop. He squints through the flames and sees five doors, three of them wide open. He should’ve asked Mama how many people he should expect, but it’s too late to do that now. Wade goes to the first closed door and pounds on it. He’s not sure why. It’s not like someone is going to let him in. So he takes a step back and kicks it in. 

“Is anyone in here?!” Wade bellows. He has to strain to hear anything over the fire. 

“In here!” a voice calls back. Wade moves quickly to the sound. 

He ends up in a bathroom and sees two kids huddled together in the bathtub. They have wet towels over their faces, covering their noses and mouths, their eyes wide. One is old enough to be in high school at least, while the other one is much younger, maybe in elementary school. The younger kid’s eyes are filled with tears. Wade isn’t sure if it’s from fear or smoke. “Can you walk?” Wade asks, reaching for the smaller kid, who cowers, but the other kid hands them off easily. The older one nods and Wade is grateful to see they have shoes on. 

Despite the younger’s fear, they cling to Wade with the strength only a frightened child can accomplish. “Is there anyone else here?” Wade asks. 

The older kid shakes their head. “Our parents work the night shift.” 

Wade nods. “Fire escape?”

“Room across the hall.” 

Wade nods again and turns his back on the older kid, crouching a bit. “Hop on and hold on tight.” There’s no hesitation. Gangly arms wrap around his neck and Wade moves quickly. He follows the kid’s instructions in his ear and gets them onto the escape, handing the young one back. The kid thanks him and they head down. Wade picks up his walkie-talkie. “Mama, there are two kids coming down the escape. Over.” 

_“Copy that. EMTs are ready for them. Over.”_

Wade puts the walkie-talkie back and rushes to check the rest of the floor. Thankfully it looks like most of the floor was able to evacuate, except for a woman he found unresponsive on the floor in one of the rooms with the door open. Wade’s heart sinks to think that she might’ve been left behind as a last resort. He radios to Mama. He doesn’t want to take her down himself. 

They get a guy on a ladder to collect her from his arms out a window. Wade tries not to think about the burns he sees on her arms or legs as she’s taken from him. He has to turn away, radio to his lips again. “Third floor clear, going up. Over.”

_“Copy that. Fire escape is still safe. Over.”_

The next floor up is uncomfortably full. The only room he didn’t find anyone inside was the room with fire escape access. Wade’s stomach drops at the idea of all the top floors being this full, but it won’t stop him from getting people out. He helps grannies out windows, carrying them across burning floors, their bodies shaking. He escorts a family of five to the fire escape, letting three kids hang off him so the husband can carry his wife. The kids scamper down first, the wife following closely after them, but the husband is slower. Wade knows the man’s burned the soles of his feet, but he isn’t letting anyone know until they’re safe. 

The couple he finds in bed is heartbreaking, both of them more flame than flesh. He didn’t spend too long in that room. 

Next he had to literally drag a sobbing eight year old from his closet. He was too scared to move and he screamed himself hoarse when Wade grabbed him. Luckily the flames hadn’t got into the closet yet, so he was relatively unharmed, but Wade wouldn’t doubt he got some smoke inhalation. Wade had to get a firefighter up the ladder for him. He wasn’t going to walk anywhere on his own yet. 

The kid is safely being taken down, his sobs getting further away, as Wade greedily gulps in the fresh-ish air before diving back into the flame. His radio crackles to life at his hip. _“Deadpool, report.”_

Wade clears his throat, still moving forward. “Fourth floor clear, Mama. Two casualties, but I’m moving up. Over.” 

_“Negative.”_ Wade pauses for only a second. _“The structure is weakening and I have to pull everyone out. Over.”_

“Get everyone out,” Wade grunts, having to jump up to the next landing because the stairs connecting the floors have collapsed. “Get your fire blanket or whatever. I’m still going up.” 

_“Deadpool, it isn’t safe.”_ Mama sounds firm. Wade almost wants to listen to her, but he can’t leave anyone behind if he can help it. Sure, he might die, but he’ll come back. Whoever gets caught won’t be able to do that. 

“Get ready,” is all Wade says before putting the radio back on his belt. He goes room to room, stumbling more than he’s comfortable with. The people left are worse on this floor, smoke inhalation and exhaustion taking their toll. The rooms even feel hotter up here. Wade only pauses long enough to ask Mama if the fire escape is still safe. When he gets the affirmative, he works quickly. He takes out small families, single mothers with their children passed out in their arms, a skinny man holding a cat close to his chest. They all look at him in confusion, but follow instructions. Wade carries whoever he can to the escape, spotting emergency responders at the bottom of the ladder, impatiently waiting for their patients. 

When the flames finally block off the route to the fire escape, even too much for Wade to muscle through, Wade has to help a family jump out the window. He’s sneaking fresh air every time he sticks his head out the window. Just as the last of the family jumps for the life net, the radio comes alive again. _“Deadpool! The sixth floor is being handled! Get out!”_

Wade is like 60% sure the woman is lying, or the smoke is finally affecting him. She wanted him out one floor ago. Still, that doesn’t stop Wade from going up. Thankfully, the stairs are still intact. He has to make sure that everyone can get out. 

_{You’re going to kill yourself for a bunch of strangers?}_ Yellow snarls. 

_Killed myself for a lot less before,_ Wade thinks back. 

When he gets to the sixth floor, he’s surprised to find someone he knows. “Wade?!” 

It’s Peter, staring incredulously from behind his Spidey-mask. He looks as Spider-Man-y as ever, but that’s not what’s important right now. “Is everyone out?” Wade asks, throat on fire. 

“Everyone but you!” Peter says, panicked. “Your boots look melted to your feet!” 

Wade frowns and looks down. His trusty boots look misshapen, but they don't hurt much. He’s fine. They’re hardy. Expensive, that’s for sure, but they’re doing their job. “You checked all the rooms? The closets?” He needs to know, his mind stuck with that kid he had to wrestle to safety. He’s had to check every single closet he’s come across since then, just to make sure he doesn’t miss another one. 

Peter nods. “I got everyone out. Now to get you out.” 

He takes a step forward and everything slows down for Wade. Even through his haze of exhaustion and fire-related afflictions, Wade can see it. And he’s too slow to tell Peter to stop. He sees the floor depress just a bit and Wade knows instantly it’s going to break under Peter’s weight. 

Peter seems to realize it a moment too late and falls through the floor. 

Wade’s heart leaps right out of his chest as he dives for Peter, exhaustion forgotten. The lower floors were so much hotter! He misses Peter by a fingertip and watches in horror as Peter disappears into flames, each floor giving way under his sudden weight, screaming as he goes down.

Wade doesn’t waste a second, going down after Peter headfirst. He slows himself by burning his hands as he grabs floors as they pass. Peter comes to a sudden stop on a floor that won’t break, but Wade doesn’t think it’s the ground floor. Peter is coughing, trying to roll over, but everywhere is on fire. He probably landed hard enough to get winded. Wade scoops Peter into his arms, heart racing in alarm as Peter’s gasps get closer. 

He tries to find his bearings, but everything is black. 

Out. Out. Out.

He has to get Peter _out._

The building is groaning ominously and his radio is going crazy. Mama is demanding that he get our _right now_. No time to panic; he picks a direction and goes. Thankfully, he picks a spot with an open window, the black smoke getting sucked out. Well, the getting sucked out part can’t be good. 

Wade doesn’t hesitate, jumping out with Spider-Man in his arms, broken legs be damned if they’re higher than he thinks. It does smart when he lands–thankfully, on his feet–Peter still safely cradled in his arms. There’s probably a hairline fracture, or some kind of compression fracture, but it looks like Wade came from the second floor.

He tumbles forward, careful not to drop Peter, who is still trying to catch his breath. Immediately there are two firefighters on them. One takes Spider-Man while the other gets Wade’s arm over their shoulder and they move the pair away from the building. Wade tries to walk, but he’s mostly dragged. His leg hurts and knowing Peter is safe is allowing his exhaustion to kick in. 

They’re dropped at an open ambulance without a word, the two firefighters rushing back to do their job once they’re safe. Wade is sitting on the ground, slouched forward, head between his knees, trying to breathe. An EMT is talking to him, coaching him on how to breathe. It helps, and Wade’s able to sit back. God, his throat feels raw. 

Peter is on a gurney, weakly swatting at the other EMT and grumbling that he’s fine. Wade gets to his feet, grunting when his left ankle twinges, but that will be gone soon. He pushes up his mask and breathes in the fresh air, deciding that air is more important than people not seeing his scars. “Spidey, let the nice lady do her job,” Wade says, fond. The EMT, a short, stocky blonde woman with a ponytail, smiles gratefully at him. 

“I’m fine,” Peter insists. 

“Come on, you fell through _at least_ three floors. Let her check you out and then we can leave.” 

“Three floors?!” the woman repeats, then scoffs, shaking her head. “Heroes.” 

“I know, they’re awful patients, aren’t they?” Wade teases, smiling. 

The woman chuckles. “Never met anyone worse than a super.” 

“Deadpool,” Peter whines, still fighting off the woman. 

“She won’t take off your mask,” Wade says, looking at her for confirmation. 

She frowns. “What if he has a concussion?”

“If it helps, he’s not acting any differently than he usually is. Please? No mask removal?” Wade begs, clasping his hands in front of his chest. 

“Fine,” she says. 

“Yay!” Wade cheers. “Now let her see if more than two of your ribs are floating. You landed pretty hard, Spidey.” 

Peter snorts, then winces. “Fine,” he says, relaxing back and not fighting the EMT this time. She sighs in relief and starts a small exam, palpating his sides. He grunts when she prods some places, but otherwise there isn’t much fanfare. 

“Nothing feels broken,” she informs them, “but you could still have some cracks. An x-ray would be able to tell better, but I doubt you’ll come to the hospital.” Peter shakes his head and she sighs. “Let me check your throat for soot, then you can go.” 

Peter sighs and obediently pushes up his mask, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. He’s following orders, but there’s a level of petulance in his body language that Wade finds adorable. The EMT sighs, shaking her head, and reaches for a tool. 

Before Wade can see just what she does, there’s a tap on his arm. Wade jumps at the contact, but looks. A petite Latina woman is looking up at him, dressed in what looks like a maid’s uniform for a hotel. Her eyes are big, brown, and rimmed with red, but she looks grateful. “Excuse me, Mr. Deadpool,” she says, rubbing her hands together in front of her. She’s shaking a little bit. She could be cold, her arms are exposed and it’s not spring yet, but given the circumstances, Wade doubts it’s the cold.

“Please, it’s just Deadpool. Mr. Deadpool was my father,” he jokes. 

“Deadpool, then,” she says, relaxing slightly. She looks over her shoulder slightly. “My kids,” she chokes out. Wade looks where she did and recognizes the pair he found in the bathtub. When he looks back at her again, she’s looking up at him with tears falling down her face. “I can’t… I…” Then she’s hugging him, holding him around his middle with strength that belies her size. Wade startles at the contact, but doesn’t shake her off. “Thank you,” she sobs, face buried in his chest. 

It takes Wade a moment, but he returns the hug carefully, like she’ll break if he holds her too tight, despite the fact that she could probably break his ribs if she wanted to with how tight she’s holding onto him. “It was nothing,” he says awkwardly, patting her back.

She shakes her head, squeezing him again, hard enough that she pushes some air from his lungs. “Not to me,” she says firmly, “and not to them.” Wade looks up again. The kids are holding each other tightly, the older one rocking gently. “Thank you, Deadpool.” 

Wade feels choked up. “Then, you’re welcome,” he says thickly. “Anytime. Although I hope never again.” 

The woman gives a watery laugh, nodding. “Me, too.” She takes a shaky breath and pulls back. Her smile is just as shaky. “Thank you,” she repeats.

“You’re welcome,” he also repeats. He can’t think of anything else to say to her. She nods and rushes back over to her kids, pulling them both into her arms. Wade can see the older kid holding onto the back of her uniform, the fabric wrinkled in their grip. Wade’s heart clenches at the sight. Not in a bad way. Wade feels… good. It’s weird. 

Someone nudges his arm and Peter is standing next to him, but he’s looking at the little family. “Hard to explain, huh?” 

“What?” 

“How it feels,” Peter explains, tapping himself in the center of his chest, “in here.” 

Wade rubs his own chest, looking at the family. “Yeah…” 

Peter leans on Wade, his arms crossed over his chest. His head is on Wade’s arm. “You did good today, Wade,” he whispers, only loud enough for Wade to hear. Wade’s breath hitches. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or what people have to say about you, _that_ is because of you.” Wade chokes up, warmth going up his chest. “You saved their lives.” 

“You’re gonna make me cry, Webs,” Wade says, playfully wiping at his eyes and realizing his mask is still rolled up. He quickly rolls it back down. Peter hums, but doesn’t say anything else. “Can I convince you to get checked out by someone?” Wade asks, trying his luck.

“Nope.”

“Not even at the Tower?” 

Peter snorts. “Double nope. You know why I can’t go there.” 

“Not even to see Bruce?” Wade suggests. Peter looks up at him and Wade doesn’t have to see his face to know that Peter is giving him a Look. “Come on, it’s an x-ray. You won’t have to take off your mask at all,” he wheedles. And he knows that Bruce Banner is good at treating people who want to stay off the radar. He’s pretty sure Spider-Man could get an off-the-books check up to build rapport.

“If you’ll stop bugging me about it, I’ll go,” Peter sighs. 

Wade wraps an arm around Peter, giving him a half hug, mindful that he might actually be hurt. “You’re the best, Spidey.” 

Peter ducks his head. “Will you come with me?” he asks. Wade tenses. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’d like you to come.” 

“Okay,” Wade says without thinking.

_{WHAT?!}_

“Sure, why not?” he continues like Yellow just didn’t rattle his brain. 

“You think it’s okay for us to leave now?” 

“Just have to return this,” Wade says, holding up the walkie-talkie and shaking it a bit. It’s silent now and Wade doesn’t remember turning it off, so it might be broken, but that’s besides the point. One broken walkie-talkie in the face of… everything is inconsequential. The fire is still going, but this is the part they leave for the firefighters. There’s not much for masked vigilantes to do unless they pick up a hose themselves. “Be right back.” Wade finds the truck where he’s sure he met Mama. No one is around, so he leaves it on the bumper and scampers off. 

Peter is where he left him, his shoulders relaxing when he spots Wade. “Now let’s go play doctor!” Wade cheers, putting an arm over Peter’s shoulders. 

“You know how to run an x-ray machine?” Peter teases. 

“No,” Wade admits, “but it can’t be that hard to figure out. There’s a heavy apron, right?” 

Peter laughs. 

* * *

A quick trip to Dr. “I’m not that kind of Doctor” Banner and an assurance that Peter’s ribs are _only_ bruised, finds Wade walking next to Peter down the street. Both of them are still in costume, but every time his arm swings, his hand brushes against Peter’s and he desperately wants to hold it. But he knows he can’t. Not in uniform and definitely… never. He’s still going to break things off with Peter. Things haven’t changed that much. 

Even if seeing Peter fall was the scariest moment of his life. Scarier than when he got diagnosed with cancer. Peter _has_ to be safe, he _has_ to live. The world needs the good that’s in him. A good that Wade cannot taint.

… so why is he walking Peter home? 

Well, that’s not the “official” story, since no one said that’s what they were doing, but they’re walking in the general direction of Peter’s home. _{Stop stalling,}_ Yellow snarls. 

**_[No, no, no,]_ ** White whispers. **_[Thank-God-We’re-Alive-Sex.]_ **

_{_ **_No_ ** _, don’t be a coward.}_

“Wade?” Peter says and Wade blinks. 

“Huh?” 

“I was asking if you were okay,” Peter tells him. “You’ve been really quiet. And you’re… never quiet.” 

“Sorry,” Wade says. “Just… a lot on my mind.” 

“Oh…” Peter stops, making Wade stop as well, but after a couple of steps. They’re in a relatively quiet neighborhood, Peter’s neighborhood actually. It’s that time of day when it’s too late for partygoers, but too early for joggers, and it’s still dark. Yet there are still people out–there always are, it’s New York after all–but they may as well be alone. “I...I guess that means you’ve come to a decision” He’s looking down and shuffling away from Wade. He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re having trouble breaking the news to me.” 

Wade opens his mouth, but he can’t argue with that. He has no idea how to tell Peter. It’s best for everyone if they part ways, right? So why can’t he say it? And why does Peter look so upset? This is what’s _best,_ right? 

He thinks again of Peter falling through into the fire again, Peter’s scream echoing in his mind. Where would he be if Wade hadn't been there? Would he have not been there at all? Would he be buried under a pile of flaming rubble? If there’s one thing that Wade is certain of: he can’t _stand_ the thought of losing Peter. 

“I’m scared,” he says, and _wow_ , he wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. 

Peter’s movements halt and his head snaps up. “What?”

_{What the fuck?!}_

**_[Yeah, what the FUCK?!]_ **

“I’ve never… not for a while.. I’ve never been part of a relationship where… where it matters what I want… separate from the other person,” is what falls out of Wade’s mouth. Apparently the gift of gab has abandoned him. 

“Wade,” Peter says, heartbroken. 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy them while they lasted,” Wade hastily adds. “And I knew I could leave whenever I wanted to, I just didn’t want to, you know.” His mouth continues to move, but nothing else is coming out. Why doesn’t he have anything else to say? Is that all he has to say? 

“Wade,” Peter repeats, this time, stepping close to Wade and holding onto his hands. Wade’s mouth snaps shut. “What are you trying to tell me?” 

“It’d be better if I left you alone–” 

“Who says?” Peter cuts him off sharply. “And better for whom?” 

“Well, everyone says,” Wade says lamely. “And better for you.” 

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not what _I_ say and I think _I’m_ the best person to decide what’s best for me.” He takes a step closer so their bodies brush together, Peter’s chin on Wade’s shoulder. “And I think _you’re_ what’s best for me. The real question is,” he whispers, “what do you think is best for you, Wade. Only you. That’s all that matters.” 

Wade’s hands are still being held by Peter, but it’s taking Herculean strength and resistance he didn’t know he possessed not to grab Peter and hold him close. His eyes are closed and the boxes are white noise, static really. “I can’t survive losing you a second time,” he admits, shivering.

“Me either,” Peter confesses, which shocks Wade. “Losing you felt like getting shot, or stabbed, but like, in a lucky spot. A few inches more to the left and it would’ve killed me.” Wade shudders. “Your aim is always better the second time around….” 

“Peter,” Wade whispers, so low he might not have said anything at all. 

“I kept up walls, tried so _hard_ to keep you out of my heart, but you got in there anyway. Now, no walls. You can go right in there,” Peter says, voice shaking. “But don’t choose me because I want it, choose because _you_ want it.” 

Wade is so close to sobbing. How on earth could he ever be worth enough to mean this much to Peter? “Would you take an old, scarred up, mouthy, and sometimes very smelly merc, Spider-Man?” he asks, voice thick. He pauses for a moment, then adds an almost inaudible, “Peter?” 

Peter’s hold tightens and he nods. “I’ll take the big, soft-hearted, katana-wielding teddy bear any day.”

Wade laughs wetly. “Pretty sure that’s not what I said.” 

“That’s what I heard,” Peter shoots back. Then his hands come up to Wade’s chin. With his hands free, Wade grabs Peter’s hips. “May I?” Peter asks. 

Wade nods, not caring what Peter is asking for. Peter pulls up his own mask to his nose, then Wade’s, then pulls him down for a kiss that is so long overdue that Wade swears he hears angels. To be fair, it could be White screaming. Peter keeps his hands covering Wade’s face, keeping the scars hidden, which isn’t necessary, but Wade appreciates it. 

And they kiss, right out in the open, for God and New York to see. Wade feels like he could fly. 

Then Peter pulls back. “Come to my place?” he requests. 

“Dr. Banner said no strenuous activities,” Wade chides, smiling, the banter falling easily from his lips. 

Peter huffs. “I know that… I’ve missed having you in my bed.” 

“Right,” Wade says, heart soaring. “I forgot you were bitten by a radioactive cuddlebug.” He jostles Peter slightly, who laughs. It’s so bright and beautiful that Wade has to taste it, so he does. Peter hums happily, kissing back.

“So?” Peter asks, a breath away. 

Wade pecks Peter on the lips once more. “I’ve missed being in your bed, too.” Never mind the fact that Wade only spent the night that one time, but he did tend to push his luck with the cuddling post-canoodle.

Peter’s smile is blinding. Yeah, what was Wade thinking? He could never let this go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Did they talk _more_?!?!!?!
> 
> please leave comments and kudos!! I really hope you like what I wrote!!
> 
> EDIT: TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> The fire emojis depict a really intense apartment complex fire, one where Wade goes into and rescues people. There is intense language and descriptions that could be disturbing to some people, including descriptions of horror, injury, and death. it's kind of hard to avoid the scene because I tend not to write in a way that skip over this stuff, but... you can probably read until the firetrucks go by then you can skip until... if you cntrl+F "short, stocky blonde woman" for that paragraph, or until the horizontal line, if that makes sensse. The important parts between is Wade saves people, meets Peter on the top floor, then Peter falls through the floor and Wade rescues Peter. The rest of the chapter is Peter and Wade talking through their feelings. 
> 
> I am really sorry if anyone had a hard response to this chapter. I didn't consider that it might be triggering for some people and I hope that this helps people navigate this story a bit better. AND if this is too much, I won't be offended if you must stop. Take care of yourself first, please <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end 😢
> 
> I have had so much fun writing this for everyone and hearing everyone's kind words ❤ you have all been amazing and I hope that this chapter was worth everything 
> 
> Yes, it is not Friday, but today is my bday and I can do what I want, so I'm going to post me my last chapter. If you want to save it for the weekend, I get it, but it's ready to go and I want to share it. 
> 
> please please enjoy my totally self-indulgent final chapter that is like 80+% smut

Peter wakes up slowly, groggy and sore, his mouth dry. He’s warm and he smells like a campfire, but he’s not panicked. There’s something heavy wrapped around him. It’s also warm and heavier than his blanket. Peter frowns in confusion, eyes still closed, then he remembers Wade came home with him in the morning. Well, it was morning by the time they came in through the window. 

Peter smiles, scooting backwards to try and burrow more into Wade. Wade hums, pulling Peter closer, his bare chest warm against Peter’s back. “You awake?” Wade asks, voice gravelly. 

“Maybe,” Peter says, eyes closed. 

Wade holds him tighter, pressing dry lips into his shoulder. Peter hums in approval, his head falling back. The arm under Peter comes around, holding Peter close to his chest while his other hand runs down Peter’s side, landing on his hip and pulling back. “How about now?” Wade presses his crotch into Peter’s backside. 

Peter huffs a laugh. “If I am?” 

“I’m gonna ask to take off your underwear.” 

Peter smiles widely. “I’m awake.” 

“Oh goodie!” Wade chirps, one hand going straight inside Peter’s underwear and wrapping around Peter’s half-hard cock. It fills fast at the contact, Peter groaning and his hips twitching. Wade strokes him lazily, humping his backside. 

“What about doctor’s orders?” Peter asks, arching his back. Peter’s healing factor isn’t Wade-fast, but his ribs  _ should _ be okay since there are no cracks or breaks. 

“I think I’m a doctor,” Wade says, pressing kisses into Peter’s neck. 

“Oh?” Peter giggles, partly from how happy he feels, partly because Wade’s lips are tickling him. “What are your orders?” 

Wade rolls forward a bit, Peter partially underneath him, the hand that was in his boxers now pushing them down. They don’t get very far down before they’re rolled back onto their sides. The boxers sit near the tops of his thighs, exposing his cock and ass, but they’re still on his legs. “Just lie there and let me give you an exam.” 

Peter smiles, eyes still closed. “Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve always been so good for me,” Wade whispers. Peter feels heat radiate out from his stomach. He can feel his breathing picking up slightly and he’s grinding back against Wade. It doesn’t feel like Wade is wearing anything. Peter swears they both went to bed wearing something, but does that matter? 

Wade’s hands are living flame, touching Peter  _ everywhere. _ The pleasure feels like it’s filling him up, every inch inside his skin filled with liquid heat. His face is hot and his nipples feel tight, Wade’s thumb sometimes stroking over one of them and making Peter shiver. Then there are slick fingers at his entrance and Peter gasps. Maybe they should take things slower, talk about their relationship and where they want it to go, but Peter has missed this. He can’t find it in himself to slow things down. 

He pushes toward the sensation, his arm going over his head so he can hold onto Wade. The move has Wade’s chin slotting more firmly over Peter’s shoulder, his scars rubbing against Peter’s skin, leaving it raw, like a beard burn, something Wade can only give him. It feels like a million years since Peter’s felt that. Then Wade’s fingers are inside him. Peter moans loudly, arching his back and pushing his hips back towards Wade. He needs to take Wade deeper, despite the fact that no-one has been in there for a while so it’s bound to be tight. 

Wade seems to know that, because he only uses  _ one _ finger after the initial breach. Peter used to be able to start out with two fingers easily, so one finger is not even close to enough for him right now, no matter how thick Wade’s fingers are. “Wade,” Peter whines. “Please.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Wade says against Peter’s neck, his breath hot and wet. The arm over Peter’s chest tightens and Peter loses some of the arch in his back. “You’re feeling a little out of practice. Gotta warm up.” 

“Wade,” Peter whines again, wiggling like he’s trapped. He’s not. He could break Wade’s hold, or, more easily, ask Wade to stop, but he doesn’t want him to stop. He wants Wade to  _ go faster _ . “Wade,  _ please _ .” Wade presses inside deep, crooking his finger. Peter cries out, his toes curling under the sudden assault of pleasure. “Wade! God!” 

“I missed that,” Wade growls, his teeth brushing against Peter’s skin and his pace picking up and becoming relentless, that spot mercilessly targeted. “You look so fucking good.” 

“Please,” Peter gasps, needing more, despite the way that he’s forgetting how to breathe. Wade adds another finger, pushing the stretch. Peter doesn’t mind going a little faster, heart racing. Normally, Wade would hold out, control himself a little better, but Peter can feel his desperation and it riles Peter up. And despite Wade pushing him, Peter knows that Wade won’t hurt him. 

Peter tries to be a more active participant, but Wade’s arm and Peter’s barely-removed boxers are keeping him relatively in place. He can wiggle and pant and arch his back, but that’s about it. So that’s what he does.

Then another finger slips inside without warning, the pace never slowing down. Peter claws at the arm across his chest, desperate for something to hold onto, but his fingers aren’t working. “Wade!” Peter yells, trying to move his hips in a way to hurry things up, but he can’t find a rhythm to work with, Wade’s pace obliterating any sense of pace he can get. Peter is  _ burning  _ from the inside. Wade’s pace might have Peter breathless, but it’s still not enough. “Please, Wade,  _ please.” _

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Wade says huskily. To hold Peter close, Wade has Peter’s arm tightly held in one hand and it’s digging a bruise into Peter’s arm. 

“You won’t,” Peter assures him, not sure if he’s lying or not. It’s hard to tell when the only thing inside him is  _ pleasure _ . “You won’t! Please!” Peter is  _ ready _ for Wade. He  _ needs _ Wade.

“Peter…”

“Wade!” 

Wade growls in Peter’s ear, the noise sending a hard shiver through Peter. He has yet to open his eyes, almost scared that when he opens them that this whole thing will be an elaborate dream. Wade removes his fingers for a second, Peter crying out in protest, then they’re back, covered in more lube, and Wade mercilessly finger-fucks Peter. 

Peter almost screams, his legs kicking out and hips flexing without permission. “Wade!” He can admit that the stretch and the pace are burning a little, the lube doing wonders to ease Wade, but still it’s not enough. He needs to  _ feel  _ Wade; he needs to know he’s here.

“Peter, you’re driving me  _ insane,” _ Wade whispers desperately, his fingers digging into Peter’s arm, his own arm a solid line of steel over Peter’s chest. 

Peter responds, he’s sure, but he’s not sure if it’s words. He’s losing his ability to think about anything and Wade is only using his  _ fingers _ . Peter’s eyes are stubbornly still shut, clinging to every detail of this dream just in case Wade isn’t there when he opens them. 

Then Wade’s fingers withdraw again. The sound Peter makes can only be described as broken. Wade chuckles, his chest rumbling against Peter’s back. “One second, baby boy.” 

Peter’s cock twitches at the nickname. It’s been so long since he’s heard it and it melts over him like sweet chocolate on his tongue. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes from the depth of his emotion. “Wade,” Peter says, voice thick, pushing his hips back. 

“Shhh… I’m here, baby. I’m here,” Wade whispers, pressing the head of his cock to Peter’s entrance. Peter whimpers, turning his head and nosing Wade’s neck. It’s so real. It feels so real. “Shhh…” Wade hushes, then pushes inside. 

Peter’s breath leaves him as his body makes way for Wade. God, he’s missed this. He moans the whole time it takes for Wade to bottom out, the process slow but relentless, and he doesn’t stop when Wade pulls back just as slow and repeats the process when the only thing still inside Peter is the head of his cock. 

Wade keeps that pace, warming Peter up, arousal humming through him and making him sweat. Peter is not quiet, luxuriating in the slow, steady pace until the moment Wade’s hips snap forward. 

Peter’s moans cut off instantly, his eyes snapping open. All he can see for a moment is white. Wade doesn’t wait for Peter’s vision to return, fucking into Peter without restraint and melting Peter’s brain out of his ears. Peter can only hold on while Wade goes to town, Wade’s hands digging bruises into Peter’s pale skin. And now Peter can see everything, the blankets pooled around them, leaving them exposed, the awkward way his underwear sits near the tops of his thighs, his cock bobbing helplessly along to the rhythm Wade has set, Wade’s hand on his hip, skin denting under the hold, and one, large, scarred arm over his chest. Peter has an incredulous moment where he thinks of Wade’s arm as a seatbelt before that thought is literally fucked from him. 

Peter leans his head back, eyes half-lidded, and Wade is right there. Scarred and beautiful and  _ here. _ He’s really here. Peter cries out after a hard thrust, his voice cracking at the volume, Wade hitting his prostate with devastating accuracy. “WADE!” 

“Oh, Wade marks the spot?” Wade asks, a devilish smirk on his face. 

Peter doesn’t have time to understand what Wade is saying because Wade hits that spot again. And again. And again. And  _ again _ . Peter screams, voice hoarse. He’s drenched in sweat from head to toe, especially on the parts that Wade is touching. “Ah!” Peter sobs, so  _ so _ close to finishing. Then Wade’s next thrust misses its spot, then his hand slips off Peter’s hip. 

“Fuck,” Wade grunts. Peter whines. He was so close. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.” 

He rolls them so Peter is underneath him on his stomach, Peter’s cock digging into the bed, Wade’s cock never pulling out. Peter misses having Wade’s arm around his chest, but Wade plants his hands next to Peter’s head and starts thrusting again. 

Peter moans, lifting his head slightly, fingers tangling in the sheets. He can’t get any leverage underneath Wade, his legs pressed together under Wade’s unrelenting hips. Not that it matters. Wade is hitting  _ all the right places _ , so all Peter has to do is moan and take it. And breathe, presumably. This position also makes it easy for Wade to dig his teeth into Peter’s shoulders, which Peter can definitely get behind. 

Peter can’t control any of the sounds he’s making, surely creating enemies out of his neighbors, each sound getting pushed out of him every time Wade’s hips slap against Peter’s backside. He’s barely coherent by this point, one long line of sensation underneath Wade, toes curling, legs kicking up, and head tossing back and forth sometimes. His cock is rock hard against the sheets. This position allows an incredible flow of sensation through Peter, but the pressure against his cock is the only thing preventing him from coming all over himself. It feels so close, right within reach, but release is as elusive as smoke. 

“Fuck, Peter,” Wade grunts in Peter’s ear, leaning down. His chest is on Peter’s back. Peter moans at the contact. “You’re going to cut my dick off with how tight you are.” 

“Wade, please,” Peter begs. He needs to come before he loses all of his brain.

“Need another position, baby?” Wade asks, without slowing down his hips. Peter nods. He can barely think beyond ‘please, please, please, please, so close.’ 

“Brace yourself,” Wade warns. Peter frowns. Brace? For what?

Wade sits back, his hands moving to Peter’s hips, holding on tight, then Peter is being  _ lifted _ by his hips. Peter flails, looking around and sees that Wade has his feet braced on the bed and he’s just holding Peter up by the hips. Peter tries to find some sort of leverage, feeling like he should be falling flat on his face at any moment, but it’s awkward. The best Peter can do is plant his hands on the bed and have his toes brushing on the bed behind them. 

But then Wade is moving before he can think too hard and Peter stops worrying about leverage. Well, it feels like Wade is moving inside him, but he’s moving Peter back and forth on his cock, and the drag inside Peter feels…  _ amazing _ . So Peter hangs off Wade’s cock and gets fucked. He tries to push back with his arms, but they’re weak under him, mostly a feeble attempt by his brain to assure himself that he won’t fall flat on his face. Yeah, Wade could drop him and he’d face-plant.

This new position is short-lived though, since the pressure on Peter’s cock has been released. He can only hold out for a few delicious drags and then his orgasm is crashing through him, his entire body convulsing and his eyes rolling back in his head. Wade says something, but Peter can’t make out what it is. He can only hear his own heart beating and the air leaving his lungs. 

It takes Peter a moment to register his surroundings. He’s lying face down on the bed, arms folded underneath him, head to the side. He blinks and takes another moment to register that there’s someone on the bed behind him. He turns his head and sees Wade lying on his back, arms over the head like he fell that way and can’t be bothered to move. 

Peter lifts himself slightly and leans over, kissing Wade’s pec. “Sorry,” Wade pants. “Need to catch my breath.” 

Peter maneuvers himself somehow so he can curl into Wade’s side, arm over his stomach. “No apologizing, Wade,” Peter says. “That was…” He lets out a breath. “Can you take off my underwear?” 

“Huh?”

“I can’t move,” Peter explains with a laugh. Sure he could cuddle in next to Wade, but that is  _ important _ . “Everything is jelly.” 

Wade chuckles then nods. “As you wish, baby boy.” 

He sits up, leaving Peter on the bed, and they struggle to get the boxers off–neither of them are willing to move very far–but they eventually come off, Wade flinging them across the room. Peter is half-certain they ended up in the kitchen sink, and if they did, Peter is pretty sure that Wade did it on purpose. That doesn’t matter now though. He pulls lazily at Wade, getting him lying down again and snuggling into his side, Wade’s arm around him. 

Peter sighs in contentment once he’s comfortable, a smile on his face. Wade relaxes, running a hand up and down Peter’s arm. “I’m happy you’re here, Wade,” Peter says after a moment of silence. 

“The pleasure was all mine,” Wade responds, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Peter’s head. Peter melts a little at the gesture. To anyone else, his response would sound like a joke, but Peter can hear the emotion in Wade’s voice. 

“I think the pleasure was mutual,” Peter jokes, playing along for Wade.

Wade laughs softly, still holding Peter close. “You nearly blew the windows, babe.” 

Peter groans, covering his face with his hands. “That’s embarrassing.” 

“Oh, I take it as a compliment, Petey-Pie.” He kisses Peter’s crown again and Peter relaxes at the contact. “And trust me, if anyone is mad, they’re just jealous.” 

“Well, you’re mine,” Peter states, running a hand over Wade’s stomach. “So they’ll have to be jealous from a distance.” 

“Aww!” Wade coos.

Peter blushes and looks down. His eyes catch the window near the end of the bed. He frowns. “It’s dark out?” he asks. 

Wade rolls on top of Peter again, squishing him without warning, Peter making a squawking noise under him, then rolls back, Peter’s phone in his hand. “Yeah, it’s after eight.” 

Peter sighs. It still gets dark so early–wait a second. He snatches the phone and looks for himself. Sure enough, it’s 20:16 (twenty-four hour notation has been a godsend when he wakes up confused). Peter groans. “I missed all my classes today.” 

“I think you earned the day off, today.” 

Peter sighs again, trying to push back the guilt he feels for missing all his classes. “I guess,” he grumbles. He knows that his tuition is barely anything for his dad, and Peter is grateful that he doesn’t have to worry about loans, but he doesn’t want to be one of those rich kids. Then he notices a bunch of messages from his friends. “I have a lot of messages from the MJs and Ned,” he mumbles. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter says, a little concerned, but not overly so. He doesn’t have any messages from his dads or uncles or aunt. He opens his conversation with Ned first, the phone going automatically to the first unread message in the thread, and there are a  _ bunch _ of messages that come after the first one. Although the first one is the only one Peter needs to read for his heart to jump into his throat and make him bolt upright in the bed.

N: YOURE SPIDERMAN!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!

“Oh my god,” Peter says, exiting out of Ned’s messages and opening Michelle’s. She’s sent two messages, a couple of hours apart.

MiJ: You know? It makes sense.   
—PLS talk to ned. He’s bugging me.

He opens up Mary Jane’s message, not sure if he’s breathing. She’s sent one message exactly. 

MaJ: Twitter.

She’s never steered him wrong, so he goes to Twitter and one of the first tweets on his feed has the tag #spideypool.

“Peter?” 

Peter goes to Trending and #spideypool is top trending in New York, followed by #ironman and #AvengersNews. He chooses the #spideypool tag: the top post is a picture with an incredible amount of retweets and comments. The picture is from last night when Peter kissed Wade in the street in costume. “Peter!” 

Peter jolts and looks up from his phone. Wade looks concerned. “Is everything okay?” he asks again.

Peter laughs weakly and shows Wade his phone. Wade’s eyes go wide when he looks and he whistles. “Ned asked me if I was Spider-Man,” Peter says. “And I think Michelle knows, too.” 

Wade nods, looking serious. “So what do we do?” 

For some reason that calms Peter.  _ We _ . They’re in this together. Peter lets out a breath of air, shoulders slumping as he relaxes. “I think I gotta invite Ned and MJ over to talk.” 

“Oh,” Wade says hollowly.

Peter grabs onto Wade’s hands. Wade gives Peter a guarded look. Peter hates to see it. “Will you stay?” 

Wade blinks. “You want me to stay?” 

“If you want to,” Peter says easily, “but meeting my friends is long overdue and if you’re here, maybe Ned won’t be too fanboy-ish.” 

Wade lifts Peter’s hands and kisses the backs of them. “I’ll be here. I just need to get some clothes. All I have here is my birthday suit, which is for your eyes only, and my Deadpool outfit, which is burned to hell.” 

Peter doesn’t want Wade to leave, but he has nothing to offer him to wear. And he won’t force Wade to expose his scars to his friends if he doesn’t want to. “Okay. An hour?” he asks, biting back his request for Wade to bring a couple of pieces of clothes to store here. 

Wade kisses Peter on the mouth. “I’ll be back in a flash.” Then he jumps out of bed, rushing to put his clothes on, as burned as they are. Before he runs down the hall to exit via window, he kisses Peter again, leaning on the bed. “See you soon.” 

“I better,” Peter teases. Wade smiles widely and disappears. 

Peter doesn’t want to get up, but he has to. His place smells like smoke and sex, and so does Peter. At least Wade left the window open behind him, so some fresh air will get in. 

He sighs and messages Ned and MJ to drop by in an hour. There’s a tiny pit of unease in his stomach as he starts to clean up a bit. Sure, his friends knowing his secret isn’t a  _ great _ thing, but it’ll be okay. 

Peter knows with Wade at his side, they’ll be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading ❤ 
> 
> You have been amazing throughout this entire journey and I cannot explain how much I will miss you guys!
> 
> ...until the next part. Yes, there is going to be a part 4 to the series. Sadly, it won't be for a while and I have no idea when it will be ready, but the next part will have so much more superdads and Avengers and sneaking around and Wade and Peter being stupid in love. I'm not done with these boys yet. 
> 
> So this is a goodbye for now feeling ❤ ❤ ❤ 
> 
> Make sure to subscribe to the series to get notified when I start posting again ❤ ❤ ❤ 
> 
> Please leave a comment or some kudos ❤ I love you all and thank you so much for joining me on this journey ❤
> 
> EDIT: Totally forgot to mention that i have a spotify playlist for this story. idk if you want me to share it! Let me know <3   
>    
> [ THE PLAYLIST ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7MIfUe2wZpIDz9vUuEnVIl?si=OL2EIPYFSE-uoQWZUqB5JA)


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